


Nary the Twain

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Stories from the Cupboard [2]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, West Side Story (1961)
Genre: Compromise, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Issues, First Kiss, Forbidden Love, Friendship, Inner City Gangs, Syndicate, Teen Romance, The Irish (Irish gang) vs. The Bloods (Italian gang) - Freeform, Uneasy Allies, Urban Blight, West Side Story, romeo and juliet - Freeform, uneasy peace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:44:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7594945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They didn't mean to fall in love, but they did.  They don't intend to start an all-out war between two rival street gangs, but they just might do that with their forbidden love.  All they want is to be together, for they are young and the world may not be theirs tomorrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by West Side Story (1961) which was inspired by William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet (1591-1595).

Neil Brendan picked his way carefully through the heaped garbage in the streets. Occasionally, a big city’s garbage crews went on strike and everybody suffered. But it was a terrible burden to slum people. At least it was late spring, so the flies and stink weren’t too bad.

But that damn garlic! Neil wrinkled his nose. He could never understand why the Italians ate garlic. But, then, maybe they couldn’t fathom why the Irish drank whiskey. Sometimes Neil couldn’t understand that, either, especially when his Uncle Regis had been drinking. But Regis was the legal guardian of Neil and his ten-year-old brother, Jimco. In a year Neil would be out of high school. Then he could get a job and have Jimco with him. Until then, the brothers had to live with a drunken uncle and stay out of his way when his Irish temper flared.

But Neil was used to trouble, especially with other teenagers. Nobody could exactly remember when trouble had started between the Italians and the Irish, but their warfare was more like a simmering mountain feud rather than out-and-out street fighting. Nearly ten years ago, there were frequent rumbles, but they were stopped by mutual consent after several boys were killed. One deterrent was that both factions lived in the same neighborhood with only five blocks separating them. They went to the same school, too. But more importantly, they attended the same Catholic Church. Father Joseph was respected by both sides and had done a lot to keep the pot from boiling over into open warfare.

Neil was rarely in this, the Italian district, but it was a shortcut to town. Between this and the Irish side was a no-man’s land in the form of a deserted factory complex destined to be replaced soon by high-rise apartments. Maybe a third faction that would move into the apartments would snuff out the trouble between the Irish and the Bloods, as the Italians called themselves. They fashioned themselves after Garibaldi’s revolutionary Red Shirts who helped to unify Italy into one country.

In the neighborhood, there weren’t organized gangs as such. Each boy belonged to a loose grouping of his faction. Neil Brendan was the leader of the Irish; an Italian boy named Frankie Poletti led the Bloods.

People were always doing double takes when they saw Neil on the street. He'd been told more than once that he resembled a young James MacArthur who played Danno on Hawaii Five-O. Frankie looked like the Italian actor George Chakiris. Neil smirked. Like he or Frankie could ever make it out of these slums and do anything good with their lives, let alone be renowned and respected actors Hollywood actors like those two lucky guys.

Neil paused. A slow grin went across his boyishly handsome face. If his crisp blonde hair and deep blue eyes didn’t identify him as an Irish, his green jacket would. But he knew the approaching Italian girl with flouncing skirts and haughty face recognized him on sight.

“Bueno sari, signorina.”

Lupie Poletti flipped past Neil. “Out of my way, Irish!”

Neil smiled drolly. “Well, if it isn’t the little Italian spitfire. Did big brother Frankie let his little, itty-bitty sister out all by herself today?”

“Better be careful what you say about Frankie, or he’ll cut you good.” She raised her chin majestically and her golden hoop earrings tossed beneath her short, curly, black hair.

Neil chattered his teeth and rolled his eyes. “Oh! I’m s-s-scared already!”

“Talk big now, Irish. Someday you’ll learn. A Poletti will hurt you bad.”

“And someday you’ll learn that your brother’s a pushover.”

“And someday you’ll learn you’re nothing but a big bag of wind, ‘cause I already know it.” She threw back her head and laughed.

“And maybe now kid sister better be running home to play with her dollies.” He glanced at his watch. “Isn’t it nearly time for your afternoon nap?”

Lupie’s dark eyes flashed. “Someday you’ll find out how much of a kid I am! I could scratch out your heathen eyes for you.”

He glanced at her long, bright red fingernails. “Your talons are ready to go, eh?” He smirked. “I trim nails like those with my bare eyes.”

She made a clawed swipe at him, but he caught her wrist.

“Let me go!”

He smirked at her struggles. “Sure, you can fight me.” He pushed her away. “Better stop bothering us grownups with your idle threats.”

Lupie rubbed her wrist and tears smarted behind her eyes, but her proud chin went up defiantly. She flounced away and yelled over her shoulder, “Irish swine!”

“Adolescent!” he called back and grinned.

 

Neil Brendan in his light blue tweed suit walked out of the cathedral with his kid brother Jimco and stopped at the bottom of the steps.

“It’s getting hot, Neil. Let’s go home and get into our jeans,” Jimco said as he loosened his tie and shrugged against the confines of the red pullover sweater.

“In a minute. Let’s wait for Maura.” The corners of Neil’s mouth tugged up slightly. “I told you not to wear that heavy sweater. It’s spring, or hadn’t you noticed? And straighten your tie.” Neil unconsciously touched his own turquoise tie that made his eyes look like Irish skies.

The Poletti family was just leaving the church. Short, stocky Leo, the father, looked like a dark square with his tight black suit pulled around his ample girth. His swarthy face was shiny smooth with triple jowls, but his wavy hair and moustache were still jet-black. Leo leaned heavily on the arm of his son, Frankie, a boy about Neil’s age. Frankie had his father’s dark good looks, but his handsome face was scowling and surly, not contended. Behind her father and brother, Lupie pranced from the church, her ruffled skirts flouncing. She looked this way and that until she spotted some friends, smiled and waved at them.

Neil smirked at her coquettish manner. Lupie saw him, and her small chin went up haughtily. Neil chuckled under his breath, and Jimco looked around to see what was so funny.

Suddenly, Maura, her long reddish gold hair glistening in the sun, pushed out of the church door and bumped into Lupie.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I….” And then she saw the Polettis and was speechless. Nobody wanted to stir up trouble between the Irish and the Italians and cause a civil war in the neighborhood. Even quick-tempered Lupie bit her lips together to keep from speaking.

But Frankie saw Lupie rub her arm and remembered he was leader of the Bloods. 

“Is that the way the Irish get through a door?” Frankie asked as he left his father’s side and faced Maura. “Do you always knock people down?”

“I said I was sorry.”

“She didn’t mean anything by it, Frankie.”

“Shut up, Lupita! No, Irish….”

Neil bounded up the steps to Maura’s side. “Do you push all girls around, Poletti? Or just these two?”

Frankie smirked. “Well, if it isn’t the greatest Irish of them all. Come to protect your girl?”

Neil smirked in return. “No, just wanted to make the odds more even.”

Frankie socked his doubled fist into his left hand. “Anytime, Irish, anytime.”

Neil glanced at those hands. Frankie was strong and wide shouldered. He’d even done some intercity wrestling.

Just then, Father Joseph stepped between them. He was taller than the boys and stern-faced. “There should be no fighting at God’s house.”

“Sorry, Father,” Frankie mumbled. He glanced at Maura. “Better watch where you’re going, Irish.”

Neil started forward, but Maura’s fingers on his arm stopped him.

Frankie took Lupie’s arm and propelled her through the crowd. As she passed Neil, Lupie gave him a smug look. He grinned back just to spite her.

“Come on, Maura, let’s go,” Neil said.

Jimco joined them at the bottom of the steps. “I thought there was going to be a real fight, Neil. Why didn’t you take him?”

“And start a civil war?”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be better than all this glaring at the Bloods? This kinda makes me nervous.” Jimco said.

“A fight might clear the air, at that.”

Maura shook her head. “No, no fighting.”

‘You’re just remembering what happened years ago. Things have changed. Frankie and I wouldn’t kill each other.”

“Accidents happen. Nobody intends to maim or kill, but it happens.”

“Aw, Maura….”

“If only you two could work something out….”

“There’s just too much difference between us and the Bloods.”

“I mean, you and Frankie. You’re both smart. You could talk it out and….”

‘Talk it out?” Neil grinned, tightlipped. “We couldn’t even discuss a simple accidental bumping between two young ladies without doubling our fists.” 

“And so this war of nerves goes on, until something breaks.”

“Nobody wants any trouble, Maura, but we just can’t trust them. I expect they can’t trust us either.” Neil took Maura’s hand and they walked in silence.

“Wonder if Uncle Regis is still sleeping off Saturday night?” Jimco asked. “Awake or asleep, I hate to disturb him after he’s been drinking.”

Neil grinned at him fondly and grabbed him by the neck. “Then don’t.”

 

Maura entered the apartment she shared with her mother and glanced into the kitchen. As usual, there was nothing cooking on the stove. And, as usual, Maura could hear the giggling from her mother’s bedroom.

Maura reached into the frig and got out some hamburger. She chopped up some onion and started frying it with the meat.

“Well, how was church this morning, honey?” Sally Shaney asked as she tied the belt of her form-fitting cerise robe.

“Just fine, Mother,” Maura answered as she sprinkled salt into the skillet. “You should’ve gone with me.”

Sally stretched luxuriously. “I was tired, baby.” She tossed her short blonde hair and smiled dreamily. “Saturday nights are getting shorter. They just seem to run into Mondays anymore.”

Long brown arms snaked around Sally’s waist from behind.

“Hi, lover,” she lisped. “Where you been so long?” She opened her mouth and kissed him. His hands went over her ample breasts intimately.

The man, several years younger than Sally, gave her fanny a pat and stepped around her into the kitchen.

“I was just finding my pants back, lover,” he answered. “I didn’t want to scare Maura by walking around here naked.” He favored Maura with a languid smile, but she turned away.

“Well, you might have found your pants, sugar,” Sally lisped as she moved toward him, “but you didn’t zip up your fly.”

He nuzzled her cheek. “That’s ‘cause I thought you might want a feel before I put ‘Max’ to bed.”

She chuckled lowly and so did he.

“Hey! Watch it, baby, or you’ll have ‘Max’ awake again.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

He nodded toward Maura. “No, but we might shock the kid.”

Sally laughed, and then headed for the refrigerator. “Want a beer, Ron?”

“I’ll share yours, baby.”

Sally winked at him broadly, and then bent to dig in the refrigerator.

Ron glanced at Maura, and then stepped quickly behind her. “Is that true, kid?” he whispered. “Would we shock you?”

“What did you say, lover?” Sally asked from the depths of the refrigerator. “Maura, did we forget to buy beery yesterday?”

“I was just asking Maura what she was cooking,” Ron called to Sally. Then to Maura, he rasped: “I bet you’re a great little cook, if only a guy could get you hot enough.”

Maura shot him a look of contempt and he smirked back at her. Ron was tall and skinny, and every pore of him dripped with sex.

The sound of a zipper working whirred in the still kitchen.

“I found the beery, lover.”

“Great,” he answered, “I’ll have some of whatever you’re got.” But he was looking at Maura with a knowing grin.

“Sit down. Maura will have something ready to eat soon.”

Ron took a long drink of the beer. “Can’t. Gotta leave.”

“Leave? But I thought….”

“I’ll be back, baby,” he explained patiently. “I wouldn’t leave you gals alone on Sunday.”

“But, lover,” she implored as she ran her long fingers over his bare chest.

He closed her hands into his. “I have to go check on those creeps and see that they’re not lousing up the business.”

“Oh, lover, I wish you weren’t in the syndicate.”

“Oh?” he asked as he stroked her curly hair. “And just where would you get your pretty clothes if it weren’t for me?”

“I know. I appreciate it, lover, but….”

“But all you can think of is how Al got bumped off by the syndicate. Honey, when you’re in the rackets, you just don’t try to swindle the boss like your old man did. Even pretty wives don’t help a man much then.”

“Just don’t you ever cross the boss. I—I couldn’t stand it if I lost you, too.”

He laughed ruefully. “Don’t worry, baby. I ain’t that dumb. I’m going to live forever!”

She laid her blonde head on his chest. He held her for a moment, and then pushed out of her arms.

“Hey, Maura,” Ron called as he grabbed his shirt. “Save some of that hot meat for me.” He grinned widely. “I’ll be back for it.”

Maura glared at him and resented her mother for not understanding his double meaning.

The door closed on Ron, and Sally sat down in a heap. Her face seemed to age ten years as she contorted it in worry. “Oh, I hope he comes back soon.”

“Don’t worry,” Maura said brusquely as she added canned macaroni and cheese to the skillet. “He will be.”

“Oh, baby, I don’t know what I’d do without him. First your brother, and then your father….”

Maura gritted her teeth. She couldn’t comprehend how her mother could love the man who’d shot Maura’s father in a gangland killing. “Do you want a green salad with this?” Maura asked.

“I don’t care, baby,” Sally answered absently. “Whatever you want.”

Stop worrying about him, Maura wanted to scream. He isn’t worth it. Ron Blecher had never gone to jail for killing Al Shaney. The court had said that there was insufficient evidence. But in her heart, Maura knew he was guilty and had enjoyed the killing. Ron was just that cold-blooded. 

“Oh, he dropped his gumdrops again,” Sally murmured as she retrieved the package from the floor. “I think I’ll go lie down, baby. I don’t feel very hungry, after all.” 

Maura shook her head as she stirred the hamburger mixture. She wished her mother would stop seeing Ron Blecher and settle down with some nice, respectable man of her own age.

Maura grinned grimly. And where was her mother to find a nice, respectable man? Nearly everybody past forty seemed involved in the rackets, either directly or indirectly. Even men in the Italian Quarter like Leo Poletti were ruled by the mob, and all he owned was a small grocery store.


	2. Chapter 2

Maura hated walking through the Italian Quarter but it was the fastest way home from her part-time job in a department store downtown. As she hurried along the street, she saw two drunks eying her.

One drunk grabbed for Maura’s arm, but she squirmed away and continued walking. Another drunk stepped directly in her path.

“Good afternoon, your ladyship.” He doffed his hat. “Care for a drink, your….” He gave her a stripping glance. “…ladyship?”

The first drunk guffawed in laughter as he grabbed her arm.

“Let me go this instant!” She struggled and failed to hear screeching brakes behind her. “Let me go, or I’ll scream!”

“You heard her,” a chilly voice ordered. “Let her go.”

They all stared at the red-jacketed Italian boy and saw the anger in his flashing dark eyes. The drunks sized up Frankie Poletti’s muscular arms and granite jaw. They dropped Maura’s arm and moved away.

“Didn’t I tell you to watch out where you were going?” he hissed. “What are you doing down here, anyway?”

“Slumming.”

Frankie’s face reddened. “Save the lip. Those drunks mean business.”

“And so do I. I don’t need your help, Mr. Poletti.”

Frankie was tempted to leave her to a just fate, but he couldn’t do that to any girl, even an Irish. The drunks were whispering, and one reached in his pocket. He might have a knife or a gun.

Frankie grabbed Maura’s arm. “Come on! Get in the car! Let’s get out of here!”

Maura held back. “I can’t leave with you!”

His dark eyes snapped. “I can’t leave you with those guys. They’ll give you nothing but trouble.”

“And trouble’s all I’ll make if I ride with a Blood.”

He shoved her slightly. “I’m not dating you, for Heaven’s sake! Get in.”

Just as they got to the car, the drunks made their move. They lunged at Frankie, and Maura gasped as she saw the flash of the switchblade. Frankie knocked them to the pavement and jumped into the hotrod beside Maura. He gunned up the engine, and they flew down the street.

“Did they cut you?”

His brushy brows scowled at her. “Nothing of consequence.” He turned a sharp corner and the tires squalled.

“Hey, slow down, will you?” Hastily, she looked around. “Don’t let the cops catch us.”

He grinned bitterly. “Wouldn’t help you with Brendan boy if we got hauled in together, would it?”

Her blue eyes blazed. “There’s no reason to take chances.” Then she cooled as she saw the torn jacket sleeve and his blood dripped from it. “Hey, you did get cut.” She touched the arm, but he shook off her hand.

“Leave it alone. I have to drive.”

But she examined the cut closer. “You need medical attention.”

“Nah.” He looked around at the traffic. “I’ll just put a band-aid on it.”

“You’ll need more than a band-aid for this.” She untied a white scarf from her neck and started to wrap it around his arm.

He looked down and saw what she was doing. “Hey! What’re you doing?”

“This should stop the bleeding until you can get to a doctor.”

“I don’t need no rag on my arm!”

She slapped at the hand digging at the makeshift bandage. “Leave that alone! And that scarf is no rag. Neil gave it to me for Christmas.”

Frankie scowled at the scarf as if it were a viper. “I don’t want nothing of his helping me.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m his, and I helped you.”

“Yeah, but I helped you first.” He grinned maliciously. “Wonder what Brendan would say if he knew I saved his girl?”

“Probably ‘thank you.’”

Frankie stared at her.

“Don’t act so surprised, Frankie. He’s not any different than you are. Neither of you is a monster.”

“Don’t give me that crud. You hate my guts.”

“Only because I was taught since childhood to hate and fear the Bloods. They killed my brother.”

“Oh? Who was that?”

“Bax Shaney.”

“No kidding? Bax was your brother?”

“You knew him?”

“Only of him. He was real tough. Quite a street fighter. The gang always watched him close in a rumble. They respected him a lot.”

It was Maura’s turn to stare at him. “Really? I thought you hated all of us.”

He scowled. “As you so aptly put it, we’re not so different than you. We don’t hate for the hell of it, just to stay alive. And to see who’s best, of course.”

“And that’s all this fighting amounts to? A game?”

“A very deadly game, sister.” He thought for a moment. “What else do we have if not this game? This crummy slum?”

“You have your lives. “That’s more than Bax has.”

“Yeah, I guess he was what you’d call a worthy opponent, though. Some of the challenge went out of fighting when he got knifed.”

“Wouldn’t you like to stop all this fighting forever?”

Frankie laughed. “How?”

“You and Neil could do it. The kids from both sides would follow you.”

“Me and Brendan seeing eye-to-eye on something? Impossible!” He mulled the idea over in his mind. “And what if we did stop the fighting and the bickering? What happens in a few years when we’re all gone, and a new batch of kids is on the street? Do you think guys like Jimco Brendan would go along with what his brother and I decide right now? The world will change, this neighborhood will change, and the kids won’t even use the same lingo we use. Now, tell me what good we could do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if you’d do any good, but at least you could try. Life would be easier for all concerned if we weren’t afraid of causing a war by simply bumping into someone.”

He smiled bitterly. “By the way, my pa chewed me out good for the way I talked to you at church Sunday. He said it was no way to talk to a lady. I guess he was right.”

She looked at him, amused. “Are you apologizing?”

“Yeah, I guess I am. It wasn’t very polite of me, even if you are an Irish.”

“Don’t hold that against me.”

“But I do. Well, I guess I’m supposed to, ain’t I?”

“I can’t help being born Irish, anymore than you can help being born Italian. That shouldn’t make any difference in a relationship between two people.”

He glanced at her. “Right on, baby.”

“But, I didn’t mean….” Maura began to feel uncomfortable. For a moment, she had forgotten everything about him except that he was good-looking and surprisingly nice. Now she was uncomfortably aware of his handsome, moody face. Besides, they were in her neighborhood now. “This is close enough.”

He pulled over to the curb. “I guess you wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation by being seen with me.”

Maura looked at him levelly. “It’s not that at all, Frankie. I don’t want to be the excuse for a fight between you and Neil.”

“I don’t need no excuse to fight Brendan. But if I did,” he glanced at her, “you’d be a good one, alright.”

She looked away from his steady gaze. “Goodbye,” she mumbled and hopped from the car.

Frankie touched his throbbing arm as he watched Maura’s strawberry-blonde hair swing out of sight. Yes, she would be a good excuse.

 

His green jacket flailing in the wind, Neil ran for the streetcar. If he missed this bus, he’d have to wait half an hour for another one. Apparently the driver didn’t see him, for the bus doors closed and the bus pulled away from the curb.

As the bus whizzed by him, Neil glanced up and saw a familiar face framed in a window. The dark, curly hair of Lupie Poletti was thrown back, and Neil could almost hear the taunting laughter from the bright red lips.

Stoically, he grinned tight-mouthed and shot Lupie a middle finger salute. She returned the sentiment but with the little finger indicating she didn’t care to send the very best. Neil grinned widely, just to show that her opinion bothered him not in the least. Lupie stuck out her tongue at him as the bus disappeared around a corner.

Still laughing, much to the chagrin of an old Russian woman who’d also missed the bus, he sat down on a bench to wait for the next bus.

Neil was still grinning later when he sauntered into his flat and grabbed an apple off the library table. The room was an unadorned male domain with a battered sofa, rickety chairs, and the inevitable second-hand television.

Jimco stuck his head around the kitchen door. “What’s so funny?”

Neil looked smug and took a bite of apple. “Heard a dirty story.”

“No kidding,” Jimco said with interest as he walked toward Neil. A large white kitchen towel was wrapped around his waist and several splotches of flour highlighted his animated face. “What was it?”

Neil eyed him and crunched into the apple again. “Can’t tell you. You’re too young.”

“Aw, come on.”

“Nope,” Neil said as he chewed. “Don’t want to ruin your morals.”

“Aw, you didn’t have any story, anyway,” Jimco muttered as he walked back to the kitchen. “And don’t fill up too much. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Oh? What are we having?”

“Brendan’s Special,” he said as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Neil grimaced. Jimco had had the last laugh. Dinner could be anything from tacos and kraut to codfish and yogurt. Jimco liked to experiment with different food combinations, and Neil would eat anything as long as he didn’t have to cook it. As for Uncle Regis, all he ever ate when he did eat was canned stew or bologna sandwiches.

Neil flipped on the television and plopped down on the couch. He grinned as he remembered Lupe’s angry face and sassy tongue. Those Italian gals certainly weren’t as inhibited as the Irish colleens, especially that Lupie.

The front door opened and Uncle Regis shuffled in. His creased face sported a three-day stubble and he looked bleary-eyed. Neil noticed how his uncle’s hand shook as he hooked his bowler on its peg.

Neil had stopped chewing his apple the moment Regis had appeared. “Supper’s nearly ready, Uncle Regis. Better wash up and join us.”

Regis waved the suggestion aside. “Had a hard day, lad. Gotta get me rest.”

Rest from what, Neil wondered as he watched his uncle shuffle toward his bedroom. After all, sitting on a bar stool, drinking beer, and watching other guys playing pool couldn’t tax a man’s strength too greatly.

Regis paused. “You know, these young bucks don’t know how to play pool nowadays. McGinnis missed an easy side-pocket shot that I used to make easy.” He looked thoughtful. “I could still make it, I bet, if it wasn’t for this.” He raised his right hand. It was twisted and gnarled and frozen into the shape of a claw. “I was the best there was ‘til that Fergus Ferguson broke that pool stick over my hand. Haven’t been able to use it since.”

Or any other part of your body, Neil thought. From the day that Regis’ hand was maimed, he’d been an invalid in spirit as well as in body. He couldn’t hold a job because of his drinking . His only income was a meager disability payment and a small amount for taking care of his nephews.

Neil watched in disgust as his uncle closed his door on the harsh world he could no longer face. If only Regis would act like a man, Neil might respect him.

But Neil felt relieved because Regis would not be eating dinner. Joyfully, he threw aside the apple and bounced into the kitchen.

 

Maura stepped from the church into the enclosed courtyard hidden form the street. This place was a sanctuary, an island in the city. A few trees and bushes struggled to survive in the city soot. She headed for a stone bench to think; prayer inside the church hadn’t helped. That meeting with Frankie Poletti had affected her greatly, and she could not sort out her thoughts and feelings about him.

“Hi.”

She whirled to the voice, but knew who it was before he stepped from the shadows.

“What are you doing here, Frankie?”

“It’s my church, too, you know.”

Maura nodded her head and her blue shawl slipped to her shoulders.

He looked around. “I almost forgot about this place. I used to play here as a kid.”

“That wasn’t right. This is holy ground.”

He shrugged. “Ain’t the only thing I’ve ever done that was wrong.”

She nodded. They scuffled around for a moment, hunting for something to say.

“What I meant a minute ago was, why did you come here when I was here?” She looked around. “Someone might see you.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He dug around in his jacket pocket and brought out a scarf. “I brought you this. I had to buy another one for you. The other one was all bloody. I didn’t think you wanted anything red.”

Slightly embarrassed, she fingered the scarf. “It’s just like the one Neil gave me, even to my name embroidered in it. I know it’s quite expensive.”

“He’s got good taste, in everything.”

“Uh, how’s your arm?”

“The doc took three stitches. I’ll live. Aren’t you going to put on the scarf?” he finished, almost angrily.

“I’ll just carry it.”

“So, you don’t want anything from me.”

“Frankie, that’s not it….”

“Then what? I was trying to save you from Brendan finding out about the other day. I might as well have saved my money. I should’ve known that no Irish would take anything from a Blood.”

Her hand on his arm stopped him. “It’s not that, Frankie. I can’t take a gift from another boy when I’m already dating.”

He blinked. “You think this is a gift? From a guy to a girl? Nay, I’m just returning your property. I wouldn’t want no Irish to say that the Bloods steal.”

He might as well have slapped her, for her face looked just as pained. She turned aside quickly.

“Look. I didn’t mean that. It wasn’t nice to say. Guess I shouldn’t try to throw my weight around with a girl.”

She began fumbling with the scarf, but tears blinded her eyes and she became exasperated with her attempts. “Oh, I, I can’t do it!”

“Here, let me.” He folded the scarf in a triangle. She lifted her mass of hair and he tied the scarf in a loose slipknot around her neck. He inspected his work and smiled softly. “Looks nice.”

“Thank you. And, ah, thanks for the other day, too. You really did save my life.”

He looked away, embarrassed. “Aw, no Irish ain’t never thanked any Blood for anything.”

“Forget that, will you?” She looked at him levelly. “I’m just a grateful girl expressing her appreciation to a very nice guy.”

His dark eyes flicked up, almost resentful and sort of sad.

“And a world apart.”

Maura’s breath caught and she intently studied his sad, dark eyes.

Frankie gently smoothed the scarf away from her face. “Brendan doesn’t know how lucky he is.” When Maura didn’t answer, he shrugged and slouched away. “See you around,” he mumbled.

“Frankie….”

He looked back at her. “Yeah?”

“I….” She fingered the scarf. “Thanks. Thanks again.”

He nodded, then turned away. This time, she did not call him back.


	3. Chapter 3

Neil Brendan was enjoying his favorite pastime of taunting Lupie Poletti. But her sense of humor was sour today, and she just wanted to be left alone. He walked beside her down the deserted alley and she tried to ignore him, but that was hard to do with him machine-gunning smart remarks at her. She looked straight ahead, but he leaned toward her, watching her every facial expression.

“Well, what’s wrong with out little spit-fire today? Cat got your tongue?”

She glared at him from the corners of her eyes, but she held her schoolbooks tighter and would not comment.

“But a cat couldn’t get your tongue, could it? ‘Cause you’re already a cat.” His face wreathed in a happy smile said he was really enjoying this torment.

She glanced at the blue jeans and the dirty tee shirt beneath his green jacket. “Why don’t you go home and wash?”

“Why, I’ve been working, woman!” He threw his arms out wide. “Loading sacks of cement!”

“So that’s why you weren’t in school.”

“Missed me, eh?”

“Like a head cold, I did.”

Neil stuck his hands in his hip pockets and fell into step beside Lupie. “Yeah, sure ,I’m working. On the job training, the principal called it.”

“And that’s what you’ll do when you get out of school? Load cement sacks all your life? Why?”

He shrugged. “Why not? It’s a job.”

“Not much of a job. Now, take Frankie….”

“Yuk! No, thanks. You keep him, garlic and all.”

“Papa is the only one who eats garlic. Now, take Frankie. He’s going into the Navy when he graduates.”

“IF he graduates.”

“He gets better grades than you do!” she snapped.

“Aha!” He pointed a finger at her. “There’s that temper I know and love.”

Lupie rolled her eyes back and muttered Italian numbers. Her golden earrings bounced as she smiled sweetly and shook her head. “No, you will not make me angry today,” she muttered.

“What gives? Going to charm school, or something?”

“I promised St. Theresa that I’d control my temper better. She is helping me.”

He raised his eyebrows and sighed. “Don’t you think you’re putting quite a strain on her?”

“Heathen!” she snapped.

“Careful.” He grinned. “St. Theresa is losing.”

“You have no respect for the church.”

“I have a world of respect for the church, but even I recognize an impossible task. You’re asking quite a lot, don’t you think?”

She smiled sweetly. “Maybe you should ask St. Theresa to help you with your brashness.”

His fair complexion colored and he looked away. They walked several feet in silence. “You shouldn’t be walking through no man’s land by yourself.”

“It’s shorter.” She glanced at him. “Why? You worried about me? Think I’d get attacked?”

His ever-present, tight-lipped grin beamed. “I’d feel sorry for anyone who tried. You’d probably beat him to a pulp.”

Her laughter gurgled deeply in her throat. “Really got you scared, don’t I?”

“Sure. You showed me your claws, tiger. Remember?”

Her smile died and she looked away. “Yes.”

Her taunting he understood, but her sullenness disturbed him.

“Hey, I didn’t hurt your wrist the other day, did I?”

She shook her head silently, but would not look at him.

“Then, what’s wrong? What’s with all this St. Theresa jazz, anyway? You kooky, or something?”

He head shot up. Her lips trembled with fury and tears. The intensity of her emotions startled Neil and he staggered backwards.

“What the….”

Lupie bit her lips together and started running.

“Hey!”

Neil sped after her and easily caught her. She struggled to break his hold on her small arm.

“Let me go, or I’ll tell Frankie!”

“Hey, why are you so mad? Don’t you like a little fun anymore? Can’t take it, eh? Finally got to you, didn’t I?”

She hastily composed herself after his open dare and smoothed the tight curls out of her face. She breathed deeply and slower.

“There, that’s better.” He released her arm. “Don’t want me to think I got the best of you, do you? You know, these polite conversations with you really make my day. I’d miss them if you didn’t want to play anymore.”

Lupie’s dark eyes flashed at Neil. “Filth!”

But his droll blue eyes just sparkled merrily at her.

“You, you are a heathen!” she spat out in her anger.

Amused, Neil cocked his head sideways. “How do you figure that? Listen, child….”

Her temper blazed. “Child?! Child?! I am no child!”

“I’d guess fifteen. Sixteen, at the most.”

His accuracy infuriated her and she leaped at him, scattering her schoolbooks to the pavement. “I will scratch your eyes out with my bare hands! I’ll….”

He grabbed her clawing hands and held her off. “Hey!” At first, he laughed but she was strong and quick, and he soon realized he had his hands full of tiger. “Hey, quit it, will you?”

But Lupie was mad. Tears of anger stung at her eyelids, and it was lucky for Neil’s ears that she was cussing in Italian. She kicked at his legs.

“Aw!” Neil released her hands and grabbed his leg. Lupie clawed at his face and that made him mad. He grabbed her wrists and bent her arms behind her body. 

Neil held her in a viselike grip against his chest, but still she squirmed. Her warm, delicious, exciting body was slammed against his, but he was so mad he didn’t care.

“Stop your damn struggling!”

“Irish pig!” And she spat in his face.

“Why you little…. I’ll close that filthy mouth of yours.”

She tried to get away and he enjoyed her useless struggles as he came nearer and nearer her lips. He head turned from side to side, but he finally caught up with it and then his mouth was bruising and punishing her lips. Animal moans came from Lupie’s throat as she continued to twist about. Then Lupie’s struggles ceased, and Neil realized he wasn’t mad anymore, only aware of an odd buzzing in his head. He released her hands and embraced her. 

The kiss that had started so violently ended gently, almost wistfully.

Neil stepped back numbly and Lupie’s hands remained where they were, useless at her sides. A look of shocked disbelief was on her face, and he knew his face must look the same.

What in the hell had just happened to them?

Lupie touched her lips with her fingers and, with a sob, grabbed her books and ran away.

Neil just stared at her. He was all mixed up.

 

Ron Blecher lounged on the couch, his feet on the coffee table. As usual, he wore no shirt. And, as usual, he was popping jellybeans into his mouth.

Maura entered the living room and looked around. “Where’s Mother?” she asked as she removed her beret.

“Out buying groceries,” he said and gave her figure an appraising glance. He grinned lazily and patted the sofa. “Come on over and sit down. Let’s get friendly.”

“No, thanks,” she said crisply. “I have to go back out. I just came home to pick up a pair of tennis shoes.” She walked into her bedroom and started to rummage through her closet.

“Pretty room,” Ron said.

Maura gasped. She hadn’t realized that he’d followed her.

“Sort of feminine,” he said as he wandered in and gave an approving nod to the frilly curtains. Then he stopped and looked down at her. “Like you.”

“Get out of here,” she ordered as she scrambled to her feet.

“Don’t be in such a rush, baby.”

“Let me go!” she demanded as he grabbed her arm.

“Now, listen, baby, I’ve been patient with you for a long time. You can afford to be friendly now. Mama isn’t here.”

“I don’t want to be friendly,” she declared as she struggled. For a skinny man, his arms were surprisingly strong.

“You’re making me mad, baby,” he said as he twisted her arm. “Don’t make that mistake with me, sugar. I got ways of correcting mistakes.” He twisted her arm again and Maura screamed.

Ron slapped her across the face. “And none of that, either.” He held her in a vise-like grip with her arms behind her back. He smirked at her flooding tears. “Baby, we’re going to have a good time.”

His lips rasped against hers, and Maura grunted in displeasure. She twisted in his arms and they both fell across her bed.

He grinned down at her. “Hey, this is better than standing. Glad you thought of it.” He started kissing her again.

At that moment the front door opened. “Maura? Ron? Where is everyone? Anyone home?”

His face was ugly as he glared at her. “You say anything, and you’ll be sorry. She’ll believe me, not you.”

“Why don’t you leave my mother alone? What do you want from her, anyway?”

It was the cruelest answer she’d ever heard. “Kicks, baby. I get a charge out of screwing the wife of the man I killed. Now I want his daughter.” His face turned ugly again. “And unless you want her to get what Al got from me, you just better start being more friendly to me and real fast.”

“Ron? Maura?”

Ron held up a warning finger and got off the bed. “Remember.” He started for the door, but looked back at her. “Your time’s coming, baby, and I won’t be holding back a thing.” He opened the door. “In here, Sally.”

“Why, whatever is going on?” Sally asked as she entered the bedroom. She saw the haggard and crying Maura crushed on the bed. “Maura, are you ill?”

Ron took Sally by the shoulders. “She came home that way. I think it must be that time of the month.”

“Can I get you anything, baby?” Sally asked in a concerned voice.

Maura shook her head.

“Come on,” Ron said gently. “Let’s leave her alone.”

The door closed softly. Maura turned to her pillow and cried in earnest.

Ron was right. No matter what happened, Sally would believe him, not Maura.

 

Lupie served the scrambled eggs to her father and brother, and they started to eat. Leo Poletti alternately took a forkful of eggs, and then he munched on a clove of garlic. Lupie and Frankie weren’t that addicted to garlic. Rosa, their bubbly little mother, had taught her children to eat like Americans. She thought it was very important that they learn the eating styles of their new country. Leo didn’t care what they ate, as long as no one tried to interfere with his enjoyment of the pungent herb.

Leo was obsessed with his breakfast, but Frankie watched his sister. Ordinarily, she was chattering about school and bossing Frankie around. This morning, Lupie was quiet and only picked at her food.

“Big dance at the school tonight, Lupie. Are you going?”

Lupie shook her head. “I think not,” she mumbled.

Frankie leaned over the table toward her. “What’s wrong? No date? Maybe I could fix you up with one of the boys.”

Lupie raised her eyes, and Frankie was startled by the tears he saw.

“Pita! What is wrong?”

Lupie jumped to her feet. “I don’t want to go to any old dance!” she declared and ran crying from the room. 

“Now, what’s wrong with her?” Frankie demanded. His little sister was very precious to him, but he was possessive of her as any man from the old country was of the women in the family. But he loved her, too, and hated to see her unhappy. “Papa, do you know what’s wrong?”

Leo chewed his food with loud, smacking noises. Jelly from his toast dotted his flowing moustache. Daintily, he dabbed at his face with a huge, white handkerchief. “Girls are like that sometimes. Do not be concerned, my son. She is just a child.”

“Nobody’s a child nowadays, Papa. We have to grow up fast on the street.”

“Maybe she’s had a fight with her boyfriend,” Leo replied as he buttered another slice of toast.

“Boyfriend?! She’s never mentioned any boyfriend. I wonder who it could be?”

“She does not have to tell you everything, Franco,” Leo said as he added a thick gob of jelly to the toast. “She may have her little secret from you. Girls are like that sometimes, too.” Leo favored his son with a glance. “And that is the way it should be.”

“But, Papa, she is so young.”

“Not two minutes ago, you told me differently. Now, my son, you must tell yourself that your sister may someday love another man more than she does us.”

“But I don’t want her to be hurt by someone.”

“She will have to take that chance by herself, Franco. It is her life and we can only guide her. Never can we tell her what she can do.” In many ways Leo was more modern than his American-born son. “Mama and I raised her right. She is a good girl.” He bit into the heavily loaded toast.

Frankie saw he could not convince his father. “Excuse me, Papa. I have to get to school.”

Frankie and Lupie met each other in the hallway. Lupie put her head down and marched purposely for the stairs, but Frankie grabbed her arm as she passed. Startled, Lupie gasped from the pain of Frankie’s strong grip on her tiny forearm.

“Are you doing anything bad?”

“No! Let me go!”

“I do not know what is going on, but I will find out,” Frankie threatened as he glared down at her. “I will be watching you.”

Lupie squirmed away and ran. Frankie would have followed but a scrap of paper caught his attention and he bent to retrieve it. He glanced at Lupie’s disappearing figure. She needed no further warning. She knew Frankie was true to his word.

The paper had one word ‘Poletti’ on the outside. Inside, it read, ‘Pay up or else.’

Frankie paled and returned to their flat. Leo was just putting on his hat.

“Papa, where did you get this?” Frankie demanded as he waved the paper at his father.

Leo absently padded his pockets. “Oh, that. I guess I lost it. Never mind.”

Frankie followed his father out the door. “But, Papa, this sounds serious. Is it from the syndicate?”

Leo nodded, then yawned and his triple chins shook.

“Then you’re still trying to get out. Papa, they’re threatening almost anything.”

“Never mind, my son. The police will catch them. That note is evidence.”

“How, Papa? It could have written by little Gino Granelli playing cops and robbers.”

Leo patted Frankie’s cheek. “Do not worry, Franco. It will be all right. You will see.”

“But, Papa….”

Leo lumbered toward the stairs. “It is time I opened the store. The ladies will be needing their fresh milk and eggs. Study hard today, my son. I will see you this evening.”

Frankie shook his head as he watched his father clump down the steps. Leo never worried about anything. He was the most placid, easy-going person Frankie had ever known. Only once, when Mama died, had Frankie seen his plump father upset.

Leo thought his son worried too much and lacked a sense of humor. But how could Frankie be cheerful and nonchalant in his savage world?

Frankie glanced at his watch and sped down the stairs, passing his father on the way. If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late for school.

“Don’t go through any red lights,” Leo called after him and chuckled at the old bromide. But Frankie didn’t have time to stop and laugh. He had to keep running, running, into the harshness of his age, the only world he knew. There wasn’t any time to enjoy, enjoy, as his father beseeched him to do. For Frankie, there would always be running.


	4. Chapter 4

The organ was playing softly as Neil slipped into his usual pew on the Irish side of the Catholic Church. He got on his knees and crossed himself. He was to attend the school dance with Maura tonight, but nothing made sense and he thought he might be able to collect his thoughts in church. His thinking had been so muddled since he kissed Lupie. She was an Italian, a Blood, and yet her kiss had haunted him as Maura’s had never done.

Neil heard a whisper of cloth and looked across the aisle to see a young Italian girl intently praying. Her eyes were closed but her lips moved as she fingered the rosary in her hands. With her dark, curly hair covered by her red shawl, she looked sweet and innocent, but Neil knew how quickly she could become a tiger with unsheathed claws.

Neil gazed at Lupie steadily. She was so beautiful and desirable. Yet he felt something more for her: a tenderness, a warmth, and a pleasure that she was near. He could sit here forever and watch her.

He stirred himself. What he felt for her was insane. It was just an odd quirk of fate that he’d kissed her. Nothing more would, could, come of it.

And then he saw Lupie wipe a tear away and sob into her hankie.

‘Don’t cry,’ he thought. ‘Please, don’t cry.’ He could stand her taunting and her sarcasm, but her tears broke his heart. ‘Please, honey, I’m not worth it.’ His arms ached to hold her and soothe her pain. It was insane for him to be feeling this way.

Neil slipped silently out of the church. He was more confused than ever.

 

Maura left the stuffy school gym for the relative cool of the hall. She was glad Neil was inattentive this evening. She needed some time to herself.

Her dancing slippers glided noiselessly down the hall, and she liked the strangeness of the familiar hall at night. It was an intriguing patchwork of dark and light, with brightness from the full moon filtering through the big window at the end of the row of lockers.

Suddenly, Maura saw a shadow near the window move. Whoever it was, wasn’t aware of her presence. She’d better get back to the safety of the gym before she was seen.

She turned and banged into a locker.

“Who’s that?” demanded a startled Frankie Poletti.

“Me.”

“Maura Shaney?” he asked as walked into the pale light. “What are you doing out here?”

“I might ask you the same thing. It’s against the rules to be out here.”

“Rules, smules.” He shrugged. “Who cares?” He pointed a finger at her. “But you shouldn’t be out here. I could’ve been anybody.”

“I know, but you weren’t.”

“You’re supposed to be scared of me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.“ After a moment, she looked at him. “Why? Why am I supposed to be scared of you?  
”  
“’Cause I’m a Blood and you’re an….”

“—I’m an Irish. I know all that. I thought that was all settled last time we talked. I’m not afraid of you, Frankie. I trust you.”

“You know we can’t be friends.”

“Why not? Out here, I can barely see your face, let alone that it’s darker than mine.”

“But in the light, that’s what counts.”

“But for awhile, the lights are out. That’s all that’s important now.”

He nodded.

They were quiet and the music from the gym floated around them.

“Want to dance?” he asked and sounded like he needed to clear his throat.

“It’s a slow dance.”

“I can dance slow.”

“We’ll have to dance close.”

“Maybe I want to dance close.” He stepped toward her. “Maybe it’s an excuse to get my arms around you,” he murmured. “Want to back out?”

She looked at him levelly, gazed unblinking at his dark curly hair lying damply on his forehead, and shook her head. “No,” she whispered and felt a pulse throb in her throat.

They went into each other’s arms and floated soundlessly in the shadowy hall. Frankie laid his cheek on her fiery hair and closed his eyes. Neither spoke, neither wanted to break the spell. For them, the world disappeared and the only reality was this soft whirling in the closed circle of their arms. Maura cupped her hand around the nape of his neck and he slid his arm more firmly around her waist, just to make sure she was really there. And she was. She was.

Suddenly, the gym door opened and people clumped out. Frankie pulled Maura back into the semi-shadows of a locker.

“I think we should be getting home, Herbert,” a woman whined. “These dances are all so boring.”

“Yes, my dear.”

“Besides, there’s enough of the faculty left to watch those young hoodlums,” she said in her flat, nasal tones.

“Yes, my dear.”

Frankie hid as much of Maura as he could. He bent his dark head over hers and tried to cover her long, shining red hair with his hands. Breathlessly, they stood motionless as the teacher and his wife passed within four feet of them.

“Herbert, why don’t you turn on the lights so we can see where we’re going?”

Frankie felt Maura stiffen and his arms pressed protectively around her.

“Unnecessary, my dear. We’re nearly to the door.” Their footsteps echoed away. “Ah, here we are.” The heavy oak door screamed. “Watch your step now.” The door slammed shut.

For several moments, the two teenagers stood tensely waiting and then Frankie looked up.

“They’re gone. Whew! That was close. I always heard old Graham was hen-pecked, and that proves it. Hey, what’re you trembling for?” He shook her slightly and grinned. “It’s over. They’re gone. You can relax now.”

“Oh, Frankie,” she gasped. “They came so close to discovering us. And then everyone would’ve known, and Neil, Neil would’ve fought you. And maybe there’d be a rumble, and you guys would be killing each other, and, and….” She looked at him, imploringly. “Oh, Frankie, these meetings have got to stop.”

“I know,” he said soberly. “And I don’t want them to.”

She looked at him with concern and surprise, but she didn’t pull away as his face neared hers. It got very quiet in their small corner of the universe.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured finally. “I’m sorry.”

Her blue eyes gazed steadily at him. “I’m not.”

He crushed her to him and this was nothing like his first guarded kiss.

He moved his softly against her face and kissed her earlobe. “Maura….”

“We have to, get back, to the dance, before we’re missed,” she gasped.

He looked down at her face with sad, serious eyes. “Do you really want to?”

She shook her head. “No. But we have to.”

He nodded. With an arm around her shoulder, he led her back to the gym. They walked slowly and with each clumsy step, they bumped against each other. But neither minded one bit.

Frankie stopped at the door and cupped Maura’s cheek in his hand. “You’re about the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.” He smiled approval at her and kissed her forehead. “Go on back in the gym.”

She grabbed his hand. “But….”

“Go on now,” he said gently.

Resigned, she opened the door and was swallowed up by the crowd. Frankie stood outside the door for a long time, and then he turned and went home.

Inside the gym, Maura searched for Neil, but couldn’t find him.

“He just wandered out the door,” an empty-eyed blonde told Maura.

“What do you mean, Becky? Just wandered out?”

Becky shrugged and popped her gum. “Just what I meant. Neil had his hands stuck in his pockets and looked like he was a million miles away.”

“That’s funny. Didn’t he even try to find me?”

Becky’s dumb blue eyes registered total mystification, and Becky shrugged again.

Maura couldn’t believe that Neil would leave her alone, and yet his mind hadn’t been on her all evening. She wondered what his problem was. Maybe he’d found a new girl. She hoped he had. She wanted Neil to be as happy with someone as she was with Frankie. Her heart still sang from Frankie’s kisses.

But they mustn’t see each other again, not with such bad blood between Frankie and Neil.

But how could she not see Frankie again when she loved him so? Maura glanced at Becky and wondered if her feelings for Frankie showed on her face.

 

After Neil left the dance, he strolled aimlessly, little caring or noticing where his footsteps led. That’s why he was so surprised when he looked up and discovered himself in the Italian district, less than a block from Lupie’s tenement. Neil smiled. His feet knew where his heart lay, even if his head didn’t.

As Neil looked up at Lupie’s tenement house, he thought he saw someone moving on the roof. He rubbed his eyes. And then in the bright moonlight came the flash again, as if off golden loop earrings. He must be dreaming, he thought, or seeing what he wanted to see. There came the flash again. It just might be Lupie. He’d looked for her at the dance and couldn’t find her, so it just might be her on the roof. He had to find out for sure.

Neil was taking a chance by being in the Italian district at night. If the Bloods found him, they might beat him to death or stab him. Either way, he’d be just as dead. Jimco would be at the mercy of Uncle Regis, and Neil would never know if packing cement sacks was his life’s work. But now he had something more important on his mind.

Neil knew that the building next to Lupie’s tenement was deserted, so he’d have a better chance of being unseen if he used it.

Neil scurried up the stairs of the abandoned house and across the roof. In the bright moonlight he could see Lupie’s form on the opposite roof. He took a running leap and landed with a thud close by her.

Lupie whirled. “Who…” Then she saw who it was. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to talk to you,” he said as he walked toward her.

“That’s close enough.”

Neil stopped, but could see that her dark eyes were luminous with tears.

“Missed you at the dance.”

“Go away, before my brother catches you up here.”

“Please, I have to talk to you. I’m real mixed up.” He cocked his head and frowned at her tears. “What are you crying about? Is something wrong?”

She wiped savagely at her face. “Any law against it?”

“Nah. I guess I ain’t never seen you doing much of it before, that’s all. Generally, you’re yelling your head off at somebody.”

She sniffed, but held her chin high in the air. “And I can cuss you out right now!”

“Why?” He stepped nearer. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because, because….” A sob caught in her throat and she turned away.

“Please, don’t cry anymore.” He touched her arm, but she pulled away.

“You need not bother yourself about a child!” she spat over her shoulder.

“I was wrong. You’re no child. Not after yesterday.”

She whirled, angry, her hand raised to strike. “Don’t say I’m cheap….” Then she saw his sober face and the sad, blue eyes studying her.

“I think we both know what’s wrong,” he said softly. “Why you’re crying and I’m so mixed up….”

She wiped at her eyes, looked up at the moon, and tried to smile. “Crazy, ain’t it?”

“Kind of.” He smiled shyly. “And kind of wonderful, too.”

She glanced at him. “And, ah, pure hell. Right, man? You know, that’s what I really asked St. Theresa to help me with, not my temper. I felt myself slipping, and I knew it was bad, bad….”

Lupie….” His voice trembled.

“You better go,” she mumbled.

Another step brought him right beside her. “Not until I say what I came here to say.”

Her dark eyes flashed up at him. “The Bloods will cut you if you touch me.”

“I got stabbed pretty good yesterday. No other knife could go that deep.”

“But those other knives could kill you! No!”

He held her shoulders. “Nothing bad will happen to me, Lupie. Except, if you turn me away. My heart’s broken in about a thousand pieces, and you did it. Want to hear how it sounds?”

Gently, he put his arms around her and she melted against his chest.

“It has a very nice sound,” she murmured.

“Sure, it does. You just mended it.”

“Oh, this is wrong, wrong….” 

“It can’t be, honey. It seems so right. My arms don’t ache anymore. I’ve wanted to held you like this since yesterday.”

“But it can’t last.” She looked up. “You and my brother hate each other.”

Softly he wiped a tear from her face and murmured, “That might be true, little one, but I love you.”

“You can’t say that!” she whispered harshly.

He tilted her chin up with one hand. “And I can’t hide it, either. It’s part of me now.”

Her eyes swam in tears. “Oh, what will we do?”

Suddenly, a trashcan toppled below them.

“Neil! You must leave! Come!” She pulled him toward the roof edge, but he held back. “What is wrong with you? You must hurry. It might have been Frankie.”

“Say it again.”

“What?” She looked around, fearful for his safety.

“What you said.”

She concentrated on him. “That you must hurry?”

“Nah. My name.”

“You’re crazy. Come on….”

He stood fascinated. “I never heard it with such a long E. It was almost like a scream.”

She tugged at his reluctant arm. “Neil, please!”

“See?” He grinned, and his happy eyes said that as far as he was concerned, they were the only people alive. “Oh, Lupie, you’re really something, you know it?”

Her eyes softened and she joined his private world. Her hand caressed his boyish face, and her lyrical voice made his name sound like a hushed symphony. “Neil….”

Gently, he touched her lips with his.

“Oh, Lupie, it’s right,” he said as he held her. “It’s got to be right.”

The trashcan rattled again and they both stiffened. 

“Alley cats….” He started to say.

“Maybe.” She glanced around. “Maybe not.”

“Lupita!” Her father’s voice thundered up the stairs. “You better get on down here now.”

“Yes, Papa!” She lowered her voice. “I have to go….” 

“Wait.” He pulled her back into his arms. “I meant what I said.”

She searched his face. “I know.”

He kissed her very quickly and very hard, and they separated quite breathlessly.

“Hey!” he called out from the edge of the roof.

She stopped at the doorway and looked back.

“How about you? Do you like me a little bit, too?”

She couldn’t speak without her father hearing, but the beautiful smile that wreathed her face told Neil everything he wanted to know of her feelings for him. Lightly, with a song singing in his happy head, he jumped to the roof of the condemned building. He loved Lupie, and she loved him in return!

Down on the street, Neil had to jump into the shadows of a nearby building to avoid a headlong meeting with Frankie Poletti. But as deeply as Frankie seemed to be in thought, Neil doubted if he would have noticed a parade of purple owls.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey, Neil, want any breakfast?”

“Hmm? What did you say, Jimco?”

“Breakfast,” the boy repeated as he held out a box of cornflakes. “Want any?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess not. Got some coffee?” Neil asked absently because his thoughts were already on other things.

“Coffee? You can’t go to school all morning on coffee.”

“Hmm?” A lazy smile curled across his happy face. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”

Jimco sighed. “You didn’t even hear what I said. Honestly, between Uncle Regis’ drinking and your daydreaming! What’s this cloud you’re floating on anyway?”

Neil smiled dreamily. “I’m in love, Jimco.”

“Ugh! That mush.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”

“I can wait.”

Neil glanced at Jimco’s apron. “You ought to be quite a catch for some lucky girl. You can cook and clean and wash clothes….”

“That’s ‘cause somebody ELSE around here hasn’t been helping.”

Neil slapped Jimco’s shoulder. “Hang in there, boy. At least I love you.” He spread his arms wide. “This morning I love everybody!” He grabbed his books and headed for the door. “Don’t be late for school. And watch out for Uncle Regis. He got in late last night.” He smiled. “See you.”

Jimco sighed and shook his head. Spring! Love! Yuk!

 

Lupie slipped softly from the stove to the table, the platter of scrambled eggs balanced deftly in her tiny hands. She smiled at her father as she placed the eggs before him.

“So much like Mama you seem this morning, Lupita mia.”

“I will get your garlic, Papa.”

Leo beamed at her as she skipped, humming, to the cabinet, but Frankie glared sullenly at her.

“What are you so happy about?” he wanted to know.

“It is spring,” she answered as she bent and kissed his cheek. “And I love everybody.”  
Frankie shook her away with a mutter, and Lupie dropped into her chair and attacked her eggs.

“And what is wrong with you this morning, my gloomy brother? Did you not enjoy the dance?”

Frankie glared at her, and then realized that his problems weren’t her fault. After all, Lupie hadn’t told him to fall in love with an Irish girl.

“The dance was okay. I just don’t feel very well, that’s all.”

Lupie put her fork down and her brown eyes grew large with concern. “Oh, I am sorry, Franco. Can I get you something special to make you feel better?”

He softened toward her and he smiled fondly. How could he tell her that her concern was the best thing she could give him?

“It is nothing. I am just worried about trouble between the Bloods and the Irish.”

Lupie sat forward anxiously. “Why, has there been talk of trouble?”

“No, but we’re about due for some.”

Her relief was noticeable and she started eating again.

“I just wouldn’t want to see any situation arise that might cause trouble.”

Frankie was thinking of him and Maura. Lupie thought he had found out she had been seeing an Irish and was warning her to stop.

Lupie paled and put her fork aside. “Excuse me. I have to get ready for school.”

Frankie did not notice the change in Lupie. He was thinking about how foolish he was to be seeing Maura.

“You are still playing the hoodlum games with the young boys?”

“W-what? Sorry, Papa.”

Leo was deliberately slow about wiping his mouth. “Don’t you think you are getting a little old for your childish adventures?”

Leo could never understand the value of ethnic gangs or the necessity of belonging to one. He did not know that to be a loner would be a death sentence.

“They are not games, Papa. Boys have been killed.”

“Yes. I remember. That was long before you joined. Mama and I thought that all of that sort of thing would be gone by the time you were old enough to join. In America, boys should not be killing other boys.”

“Papa, that great American dream is dead!”

Leo looked like Frankie had blasphemed a saint. “Perhaps it is if boys like you think it is. Men like I know different.”

“Men like you who struggle against the syndicate? Don’t tell me that is part of your American dream!”

Leo gazed at his son steadily. “In old country, there would be no fight against the bosses. We would be dead. No, in this country, there is a chance that you might win. That is why we must fight. I understand you are a leader of these boys. You understand how important it is not to fight. You know that these boys sometimes join a gang just to fight. You could change that.”

Frankie gestured helplessly. “How, Papa?”

“You are smart. You have to be if you are a leader. You would find a way if you really wanted to.”

Frankie pursed his lips. “But what if….”

Suddenly, the sound of an explosion tore the air.

Leo blinked, and then moved faster than Frankie had ever seen him move. “The store!”

Frankie followed his father out the door.

“Frankie! What happened?”

“Stay in your room, Lupie! You might get hurt. Someone bombed the store.” And as Frankie ran down the stairs, he knew who that someone was: the syndicate.

The bomb had broken the plate glass window and ruined merchandise at the front of the store, but the total damage was amazingly light. It was more like a warning to Leo Poletti that worse things could happen if he didn’t cooperate.

“Papa, you’ve got to stop teasing the syndicate. You’re in with them now. They’ll never let you out, so why try?”

Leo calmly watched the carpenters boarding up his windows.

“Why do I try, Franco? Because I made a promise to my Rosa Maria on her deathbed that I’d get out.”

“But that’s impossible! You should never have joined them.”

Leo looked sorrowful. “I had two small bambinos and a sick wife. What else could I do? I needed the money.”

Frankie shook his head. “I’m not blaming you, Papa. You did what you had to do. But we worry, Lupie and me, about what the syndicate could do to you. We don’t want to lose you, Papa.”

Leo patted Frankie’s cheek. “You are a good boy, Frankie. Come, let us go clean up the store. The customers will be needing their fresh milk and eggs.”

“But what are you going to do about this bombing?”

“The police will find them.”

“But the police are on the take, Papa.”

Leo smiled fondly at his son. “Don’t worry, my son. There are many honest policemen. They are good men.”

“Then, if they’re such good men, why don’t you tell them what you know about the syndicate?”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that, Frankie. It is unnecessary. The syndicate will see that I am serious about getting out, and someday soon they will stop trying to force me to stay.”

“But, Papa….”

Leo patted Frankie’s worried face again. “It is not good that the young should worry so. Smile! You need to laugh more. You are too serious. Let your papa handle it, hmm? Everything will be okay, you’ll see.”

Frankie sadly nodded his head. “Okay, Papa, whatever you say.”

Leo grinned and his white teeth flashed against the background of his swarthy complexion and three chins. “Good boy. Come. Already Mrs. Manelli is waiting for her daily loaf of bread. We cannot let her seven bambinos cry for breakfast, can we?”

Frankie shook his head as he followed his father inside the store. Leo would never worry about his problems, and Frankie could think of no way to stir him into action.

 

Lupie paused at her locker between classes and furtively looked to see if any other students were watching. Neil had just thrust a note in her hand as they shoved past each other in the crowded hallway. Satisfied that she was unobserved, Lupie opened the crumpled paper and her dark eyes scanned the few words.

‘Gibbons Park. 4 p.m.’

Lupie shoved the note inside her bra and hurried to her next class.

Gibbons Park was across town and Lupie had to change busses twice to reach it. But one thing for sure, anyone who saw her and Neil together here wouldn’t know them.

As the heavy bells of a nearby church tolled four o’clock, Lupie was idling in front of the tree-lined park lagoon watching five mallard ducks joyfully quacking and swimming about. She laughed as they dived for food, and then shook their emerging green heads in the bright sunshine.

Lupie felt someone watching her. She turned and saw Neil standing barely twenty feet away. She started toward him, but he motioned her to stay where she was. Then he walked to her, his happy eyes on her all the while.

His languid sapphire eyes gazed steadily down at her, and his lips were curved upward slightly with his usual tight-lipped grin.

“I wanted to remember you always that way. Standing there in the sunshine, laughing at the ducks.”

Her tiny fingertips brushed his cheek and then hooked through his fingers as the couple turned and strolled slowly along the grassy bank of the lagoon. The old fear of being seen by a Blood or an Irish was between them and they barely dared to touch. The relative safety of Gibbons Park intoxicated them. Never had two people from opposing neighborhood factions been able to walk at ease together without fear of angering both sides. They were slightly dazed by the prospect of doing so now.

When five minutes had passed and nobody had stopped them, they dared to hope nobody would.

Neil took Lupie by the shoulders, and his sparkling eyes told her she was treasured above all others. He folded his arms around her, closed his eyes, and just held her. Above them, a warbling oriole sang his praises to the fine spring day. A slight breeze gently rustled the new leaves on the chestnut and maple trees, and the embracing lovers could hear the playful ducks quacking softly in the distance.

Neil led Lupie to one big chestnut and they settled among its roots. Neil’s head lay in Lupie’s lap and she gently stroked his face as he gazed fondly up at her.

“We will have to leave soon. Papa will be wondering where I am.”

 

“I know,” he replied. “I just had to spend some time with you, to look at you for as long as I wanted.” His hand reached up to touch her short, curly hair. “And to find out if you love me as much as I love you.”

“Very,” she lisped. “Very much.” She bent and kissed him. “Mi amori,” she murmured. She turned away in sudden shame. “To think I once called you filth.”

His hand turned her face back toward him. “That was a hundred years ago, back when we didn’t know better. We’ve changed a lot in a week.”

She grinned shyly. “Yes. And I don’t want it ever to be like it was between us. I never want to hate you again.”

Neil raised himself up. “My life wouldn’t be worth living if you hated me. I’d never willfully do anything to hurt you.”

Her large eyes questioned him and then cleared with understanding.

They both were thinking the same thing, but could not speak it. What would Neil do when the day came that he and Frankie would, must, fight?

“God help me to keep my vow,” Neil entreated.

Lupie laid her soothing cheek against Neil’s. “Oh, why must there be gangs and wars? Why can’t we just love each other?”

Neil looked at her steadily. “We can.” He kissed her slowly and completely. “We better be getting back,” he said at last. “It’s a long ways across town.”

“Wait. There is something I want you to have.” She removed a golden chain from her neck and slipped it over Neil’s head.

“What’s this?” Neil asked as he held a chunky, well-worn ring that dangled from the end of the chain.

Lupie lovingly touched the heavy, golden object. “It was my mother’s. I want you to have it because it means so much to me, as you now do. I want you to have it with you always.”

“But I have nothing to give you in return.”

“You have given me your wonderful love,” she murmured. “That is all I need.”

He glanced around, and then picked up something. “A duck feather from one of your friends out on the pond.”

“Perfect,” she declared and her bright smile flashed at him.

His smile was almost sad. “May you never forget this day, or me.”

“Never,” she lisped and held his face in her hands as she kissed him.

Neil helped her to her feet. “Come on! Race you to the bus stop!”

Hand in hand, they ran across the grass, laughing and waving to people they met. For the moment they were young and carefree and very much in love.

They skidded to a halt at the bus stop and collapsed, laughing, in each other’s arms.

“Hey! That was pretty good timing,” Neil said. “Here comes the bus now.”

The laughter died in Lupie’s throat as she watched the silver city bus approach. Automatically, they stepped away from each other and stood a few feet apart.

Lupie glanced up and her eyes were large with sorrow.

“This day will always be special in my heart,” she vowed.

“Kind of a strange first date, ain’t it? With the ducks and all?”

“Just so there are other dates to follow.”

“There will be, honey. We’ll find a way….”

The bus stopped beside them and the door whished open.

For the briefest instant their hands touched.

“Always,” Lupie murmured.

“Forever mine,” he answered softly.

Lupie’s breath caught and her eyes sought out Neil’s. Lupie could see his heart breaking and knew she must be strong for both of them. She stepped on the bus and walked to the back without glancing at him.

Neil settled three seats from the front. Already they must take the precaution of not being seen together.

Neil longed to turn around and gaze at Lupie, but that might be noticed by someone they knew. Instead, he touched the heavy ring that she had given him, and he felt that she was beside him. How absurd of him to give her a duck feather!

In the back of the bus, Lupie gazed at Neil’s golden head and cradled the duck feather in her hand. She would treasure it forever!


	6. Chapter 6

Maura leaned into the whipping wind as it tore at her storm coat and white headscarf. The weather was warm with no moisture. If this insane wind would only let up, it’d be a fine day.

She ran across the open courtyard of the closed Emmings Factory. Scraps of paper and other debris rolled past her feet and banged into her legs. She’d be happy to get back to the protection of the buildings again. She didn’t like being out in the open where anybody could see her.

“Hey, Irish!” The voice, strangely muffled by the wind, was unmistakably Italian.

Maura stopped, scared and watchful. None of the Italians had risked molesting an Irish girl, but there was always a first time for everything. Maura’s worried face peered anxiously around. The blank, cheerless facades of empty tenements stared back at her. She saw no one.

And then someone stepped from the shadows, someone she knew, and Maura relaxed.

“If you ain’t the worst person for being in the wrong places,” Frankie said as he scrunched inside his red jacket. The wind ruffled his curly hair and threatened to extinguish the cigarette that hung from his lips.

“I was just going home.”

“Through no-man’s land?” He threw away the smoke. “Ain’t safe. Next time, take a bus.” He glanced around. “One good thing. It’s a good place for talking. Ain’t nobody going to see us here. I thought if I stayed around, you might show up.”

“I’m glad you waited for me, Frankie. I’ve been wanting to see you, too.”

He avoided the mellow glow in her eyes and scuffed his toe on the sidewalk. Words tumbled from his mouth, and he talked rapidly so he wouldn’t lose his courage. “About the other night at the dance…. It’s over before it starts. Understand? So forget it. Just….” He shrugged his shoulders. “Forget it ever happened.” He started to move away. “See ya around.”

“Don’t I get a chance to say anything, Frankie?”

He stopped, but wouldn’t look at her.

“Are you scared of me? Couldn’t you love me?”

“It ain’t that.” He rubbed his forehead. “God know it ain’t that.” His sorrowing eyes looked at her levelly. “I could love you, real easy.”

“Then, why….”

He sighed. “It’s such an old tune, I hate to play it again. I don’t want a gang war, Maura. And that’s what there’d be if I took Brendan’s girl….”

“I’m NOT Brendan’s girl anymore. And it’s not taking if it’s offered to you.”

He held up his hands in submission. “Alright, alright. Honey, you ought to know what hell there’d be if you were my girl.”

“Then there’ll just have to be hell, because, Frankie, I am your girl.”

They stared at each other. Maura’s blue eyes snapped in anger, and Frankie’s sad heart yearned desperately to agree with her. But there was the ever-present danger of a gang war.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Just because you don’t want me, that’s no sign that I’ll stop loving you.”

“Not want you?” He closed the distance between them and folded his arms around her. He screwed his face up tightly against the terrible hurting in his heart. “Oh, baby, if only you knew how much….”

“I said I was yours.”

He pulled her tighter as the wind whipped around them. “And if we’re seen together, that’ll start a war. So, what have we proven?”

She pulled away and studied his face. “The only thing that’s important is us.”

His smile was sad. “But there’s more people involved than just us, honey.” He tucked a strand of her reddish gold hair back under the white scarf he’d given her. 

Her arms stiffened. “And because of them, we just have to walk away from each other?”

He nodded. His wooden arms dropped and he stepped backwards. “I don’t want to, Maura. I don’t want to.” And his wistful eyes were full of heartache. “But it’s better that we break this thing off before it gets started.”

Maura nodded numbly.

“Can I, kiss you goodbye?”

Tears glistened in her blue eyes as the fierce wind tore at her face. She shook her head. “I, I don’t think I could stand it.”

Frankie nodded. He stepped away and looked back at her figure. “Better not walk through here anymore.”

She nodded and then pressed her lips together to keep from crying out loud. Frankie saw the tears sliding effortlessly down her face and wished he wasn’t making her so unhappy.

Maura untied her white scarf and handed it to him.

“I don’t understand. Why are you giving this back to me?”

“You wanted to make this break complete, so I’m giving back your present,” she said in a quavering voice. The wind billowed out her long reddish gold hair like a sail and tossed it around her grieving face.

“You better keep it. What will Brendan say when he misses it?”

“He won’t notice. He’s got another girl. Here, you can give this to your next girl,” she said harshly as she dangled the scarf at him. But Frankie’s face was so greatly pained that she quickly regretted her words. “I didn’t mean that, Frankie. I know this mess isn’t your fault. We all inherited it from my brother Bax and those other guys ten years ago.”

“Maura, I swear if there was some way to clear up this mess, I’d do it. And my greatest reason is that we could see each other. But that would take cooperation from both the Bloods and the Irish, and Brendan and I could never even see the same side of the sun let, alone agree on peace terms.”

“If you two could only talk, it might not be so bad as you think. I know both of you. It just might work.”

“And it just might blow the lid off this whole neighborhood. No, we better stay cool.”

“And that brings us full circle to our problems. We have to stop seeing each other.”

He nodded.

“And I don’t want any reminders,” she said as she handed the scarf to him again. “The break will be clean.”

He reached out his hand and they both had to lean forward to touch. Already the gulf was separating them.

“There’s just one thing I have to tell you, Maura, in case you ever doubted it,” he said gently. “I love you, honey. I love you very much.”

“Oh, Frankie, darling….” Her voice choked and she hugged him fiercely. Then she pushed out of his arms and ran sobbing down the street.

Frankie watched her until her figure disappeared around the corner of Emming’s Factory. Then he stuck his hands into his pockets and wandered off, oblivious to the wind.

High above them where he’d been gazing out of a tenement window, Jimco Brendan whistled softly. He had no idea what’d been said down there, but Neil would sure be interested in what he’d seen. Jimco took off at a dead run.

 

Jimco slammed the door and raced around the apartment. “Neil! Are you here, Neil?!” He glanced into their empty bedroom and headed for the kitchen.

At that moment, Uncle Regis stumbled from his bedroom. Jimco’s noise had awakened him from a drunken stupor.

“What the hell are you yelling about, kid? Worms biting your butt?” He dropped into an overstuffed chair.

Jimco ran toward him. “Have you seen Neil? I’ve got to find him.”

“Neil! Always Neil. You know, kid, there was a time when people came looking for me. Me, Regis Brendan. The girls were all hot for me, couldn’t keep their hands out of my fly. A regular dandy, I was. Wore the best tweed suits, the fanciest bowlers. And was I ever good at shooting pool. Made my living that way. Then that damned sorehead busted my hand.” He studied his misshapen hand. “And all my career went p-p-p-t! down the drain.”

Jimco didn’t have time to listen to him now. He had to find Neil. “See you later, Uncle Regis.”

Regis grabbed Jimco’s arm as he passed. “Hey, where you going?” the bleary-eyed man demanded. If he was cleaned up and sober, he’d look forty, instead of sixty.

“Please, Uncle Regis!” Jimco begged as he tried to shake off the strong grip of his uncle’s good hand.

Regis let loose, and Jimco had the sense to stand still.

“The city says I’m responsible for you.” Regis closed his eyes as he poured another shot of whiskey down his throat. “How the hell can I keep an eye on you young hoodlums if you’re never here?”

“Really, Uncle Regis,” Jimco said as he inched toward the door. “I have to go.”

Regis jumped to his feet and thundered, “You’re going nowhere!” He slammed the door shut and pushed Jimco into a chair. “You’re staying home!”

“Why don’t you take a little nap, Uncle Regis….”

“Shut up! Shut up your face this instant!”

Jimco realized he’d goofed. If he’d tried the soft-pedal approach two minutes earlier, Regis would have calmed down and slept. But now it was too late. Jimco had done the unforgivable. He’d angered Regis and unleashed his Irish temper.

“You and Neil! You and Neil! So close! Always together! It almost makes a grown man puke!” Jimco make a move to leave the chair, but Regis grabbed him by the shirt collar. “And when I tell you to stay put, you stay put!” He backhanded Jimco across the mouth.

Jimco touched his bleeding lip. “Please, Uncle Regis, I….”

“When I want your backtalk, I’ll ask for it!” Regis’ heavy, misshapen hand snapped Jimco’s head the other way. Tears misted Jimco’s eyes as he cowered against the chair.

Regis started to unfasten his leather belt. “I’ve been neglecting my duty lately, I see. Well, I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t ever forget!”

Jimco made a dash for the door, but Regis grabbed him. “Don’t try to get away from me, you little hoodlum!”

But Jimco was fighting back now, fighting for his life. He kicked at Regis and flailed his arms. Regis’ hand slapped Jimco smartly across the face. Jimco twisted loose, lost his balance, and cracked his head on the radiator as he fell. He sat cross-legged on the floor, trying to orient his dizzy world.

“Come on, get up if you want more. Had enough, eh? Hell, you ain’t worth the trouble of tanning your hide. Go ahead and sit on the floor like a turtle if you want. I’m sleepy.” And Regis, his anger spent, stretched, and went into his bedroom.

From his dizzy place on the floor, Jimco realized he was badly hurt and needed help. He wanted Neil. Neil, his brother, the only one who loved him.

Jimco stumbled out of the apartment toward the stairs. Just as he reached the first step, he felt dizzy and grabbed for the banister, but suddenly it wasn’t there.

In his drunken stupor, Regis never heard the wailing of the ambulance.

 

“Neil! What’s wrong? What are you crying about?”

“Jimco,” he sobbed. “Jimco’s been hurt bad. The hospital just called. They said he could be dying!”

“Oh, no,” Maura gasped as she laid a sympathetic hand on his arm. “Oh, Neil! I’m sorry. What happened?”

“I don’t know.” He wiped his eyes and blew his nose. “they found him just inside the house, all battered and bleeding.” He grabbed her hand. “Come to the hospital with me?”

 

Neil saw Jimco’s expressionless face and his small head swathed in bandages.

“Jimco,” Neil muttered as he watched the shallow breathing. “Oh, Jimco.”

“Are you the boy’s brother?”

Neil jumped. He hadn’t seen the husky nurse by the window.

“Y-yes, I’m his brother. If you want me to leave….”

“On the contrary.” She drew a chair forward for, despite her hatchet-faced appearance, she was kindly. “We want you to stay with him. Talk to him, especially if he comes around. If we can get him to wake up, he might make it.”

Neil looked up from his chair. “Ma’am, does he have a chance?”

The smile on her big, plain face gave her a certain loveliness. “Now that you’re here, I think he does. I understand you two are very close.”

Neil looked at the bundle of rags on the bed. “Yes, ma’am, very.” He leaned forward and took Jimco’s hand in his. “Oh, Jimco, come back to me. Please, come back.”

For two hours Jimco lay as if dead, and for two hours Neil and the nurse watched. Then Jimco started to moan and squirm.

“No, no! Don’t hit me! Please! Please, don’t!”

“Hit you? Jimco, did someone hit you?” He turned to the nurse. “Miss Cook, did you hear that? Someone beat him up.”

“Keep talking to him!” the nurse prodded.

Neil jumped to his feet and leaned close to the bed. “Jimco! Can you hear me? It’s Neil. Wake up, Jimco.”

“N-Neil?”

“Yes. Neil. Come on, kid, open your eyes and grin at me.”

But Jimco was still too far under. “Neil….”

“I’m here, Jimco.”

“Neil. Help me, Neil!” His hand grabbed at Neil’s green jacket.

“Who was it, Jimco? Who beat you up?”

But Jimco slipped back into incoherent ramblings. And in his foggy brain, Jimco remembered what he wanted to tell Neil about Frankie and Maura.

“Jimco. Try to remember. Who?”

Jimco fought back the fog. “Frankie.”

Neil felt slapped. “Frankie? Frankie Poletti?”

“Frankie and….”

The nurse shook her head at Neil.

“That’s enough, Jimco,” Neil said. “You rest now.”

“Emmings….” Jimco said in a raspy voice.

“Emmings Factory,” Neil repeated. That’s where Frankie had cornered Jimco and beaten him up. He might still be there.

“Neil, Frankie….”

Neil patted Jimco’s hand. “I heard, kid. I understand.”

Jimco seemed satisfied and fell into a natural sleep.

“Where are you going?” the nurse asked.

“I’ll be back,” he answered, “but first I got a score to settle.”

In the waiting room, Maura pitched aside the LIFE magazine she’d been reading and ran to Neil’s side.

“How is he?”

“He just woke up. He’s got an awfully bad concussion, but his chances are good.”

“Oh, Neil,” she breathed. “I’m so grateful! Jimco’s like my own little brother.”

“I know. So you’ll understand why I have to get the guy who did it.”

“The guy who did it,” she echoed. “You mean, it wasn’t an accident?”

“No. He was beaten up. And I’m going to square things.”

“No, Neil! Let the law handle this.”

Neil clinched and unclenched his fists. “No, this is something that’s been brewing a long time. Now the pot won’t hold it any longer.”

A crazy notion came to Maura. “Who did it, Neil? Who beat up Jimco?“

The disgust flowed from his eyes. “Frankie Poletti.”

“Frankie? Oh, no, Neil. It couldn’t be Frankie!”

He looked at her oddly. “What do you mean? What do you know about Poletti?”

“N-nothing, except it isn’t like him. He doesn’t beat up little kids.”

“Well, this time he did, and I’m going to get him for it.”

“Please, Neil, don’t.”

“Stay here with Jimco, will you?” he asked as he patted her shoulder and started down the hall.

“Neil, wait!”

“I’ll be back,” he called as he ducked into the elevator.

Maura looked around helplessly and began to pace the floor.

Downstairs, Neil ran for the front entrance. He’d show that damned Italian that he couldn’t beat up on Jimco. He didn’t care if Frankie was Lupie’s brother….

Lupie!

Neil staggered as though someone had hit him in the stomach.

Lupie! How could he hurt Lupie this way?

But she knew the score. She knew about the hatred between the Bloods and the Irish. He and Lupie had been foolish to fall in love. They should’ve known it’d have a bad ending.


	7. Chapter 7

Inside the hospital, Maura was making a phone call.

“Hello, Poletti? May I speak to Frankie, please?”

“I’m sorry, he isn’t here,” Lupie answered.

“Do you know where I can reach him?”

“No, I don’t.” There was a pause. “Who is this?”

“Never mind. I’ll just….”

“Isn’t this Maura Shaney?”

“Yes.”

“What would you want with my brother?”

“Oh, Lupie, I have to tell somebody.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. “Maybe you can find Frankie and warn him. Neil’s out to get him.”

“Neil?! But, why?”

“He thinks Frankie beat up his brother.”

“Frankie don’t pick on kids.”

“That’s what I told Neil.”

“Why would you defend Frankie? Where are you, anyway?”

“At County Hospital, with Jimco.”

“I’m coming over to talk to you.”

“No! Please, find Frankie.”

“I have no idea where he is. The last few days he’s been so distant. He doesn’t even hang out with his friends. Maybe you might know what’s wrong with him.”

“Why should I? We don’t even know each other.”

“Don’t hand me that. A couple of weeks ago I found a bloodstained scarf in the waste can. It had your name on it.”

“There’s no time to explain. You must warn Frankie….”

“He’s strong,” Lupie said coldly. “He can take care of himself. He could kill anybody with his bare hands.” She gasped. “Sweet Mother of God!”

“What’s wrong?!”

“Neil! Frankie might kill Neil! Oh, we must call the police and stop Frankie! He must not hurt Neil!”

“No police! Frankie and Neil would never forgive us.” She paused. “Lupie, why are you so concerned about Neil? I thought you always wanted to scratch his eyes out.”

The question caught Lupe off-guard and she stammered. Suddenly, Maura felt very close to her.

“Oh, Lupie, hurry down here as fast as you can. We do need to talk. And I think we both know why.”

 

Neil stopped running and stood panting in front of the Emmings Factory. He wiped his knuckles across his open mouth as he peered upward at the myriad windows. Somewhere in there, he hoped he’d find Frankie Poletti.

And, miraculously, Frankie was inside. After he’d watched Maura leave, he’d gone into the factory to be by himself. He never heard the door open nor saw Neil slipping noiselessly toward him.

Heavy wooden tables piled with scattered debris and thick dust were strewn around the dark corners of the musty room. Pale light filtered through the smoky dinginess of the bare windows. The air was close and tainted.

Frankie felt a dull ache in the back of his head and knew the lack of fresh air was giving him a headache. He sat on a low stool, absently tossing a piece of lathed wood in his strong hands. The wood whirled, but all he saw was Maura’s lovely face and how sad it’d been at their parting.

“Well, here’s the muscleman now.”

Startled, Frankie dropped his club. But his body, long accustomed to alley fighting, made one continuous reaching motion to retrieve it. The stool clattered behind him as he grabbed.

“Leave it,” Neil ordered coldly. “Or I’ll bust your head wide open right now and spill your lousy brains all over this dirty floor.” Hatred oozed from Neil like sweat. Here was the guy he hated, the guy who had tried to kill his beloved brother. How he longed to burst that skull. But first he wanted to make Poletti suffer.

Frankie glanced up from where he squatted. Neil stood patting a thick chunk of wood in his hands.

“Now, nice and easy, straighten up.”

Frankie obeyed and a moment later faced Neil.

“No sudden moves, or I’ll filet you where you stand.”

Frankie studied the menacing club and Neil’s equally menacing eyes. Neil’s crafty grin seemed almost to beg for Frankie to try something.

“What’s going on, Brendan?”

Neil snorted. “You know, muscleman.”

“No, I don’t. Tell me.”

“Go ahead. Play dumb. You’re going to get just what he got. Only better.”

“What are you talking about? Did an Irish get hit by a Blood? My boys know better than to….”

Neil’s eyes clouded with hatred. “Nah, not really an Irish, just a little kid,” Neil snarled. “Tell me, is it a good feeling to stomp a little kid’s head in, especially when you know he can’t even fight back?”

Frankie paled. “Some kid got it? Is he alive?”

“Rarely. Just barely.” He padded his club. “But he had enough strength to finger you.”

“Me? But I haven’t been….”

“Hold it! I told you not to move! Or do you want it now? Now or later, I don’t care. ‘Cause, buddy boy, I’m going to make your skull look like an overripe tomato.”

Frankie wiped his chin nervously. He didn’t dare anger Neil further. The Irish boy’s eyes were already glazed with revenge and insanity. In this state, Neil would think nothing of killing Frankie on the spot.

“Listen, who was this kid that got it? You can tell me that much, can’t you?”

Neil snorted again. “As if you didn’t know. But I’ll tell you just to remind you. It was Jimco.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah. What’s wrong? Short memory? Or did you get him mixed up with some other kid you’d beaten up? What is this, some kind of sport with you?” he snarled.

“I didn’t do it.”

“Eh?”

“I didn’t clobber your brother. You have to believe me….”

“I told you to stay back!”

Neil swung wildly at Frankie, but Frankie sidestepped the blow and knocked the club from Neil’s hand with a judo chop to the wrist. With a bellow, Neil tackled Frankie and the two boys went crashing to the floor. Over and over they rolled in the dirt. They grunted and struggled, but neither one was able to get a decisive advantage. They collided solidly with a table and sent it careening across the floor to smash into a second table. The floor shook beneath them, but the boys fought on. Neil grabbed for Frankie’s throat, but Frankie strained against the tightening fingers and finally sent Neil flying sideways.

Neil rolled but came up with a wooden club in his hand. He threw himself on Frankie’s body and drew back his club to strike. But he stopped abruptly, his club poised over Frankie’s head. Frankie was surprised to see a look of sickening remorse on Neil’s face, but then Neil clinched his jaws together in determination and swung.

The split-second pause saved Frankie’s life. He turned just in time and Neil’s weapon splintered violently beside his ear. It raised a cloud of dust that temporarily blinded Frankie. He coughed and sputtered and wiped at his face. If Neil had not broken his club with his first blow, he could have killed the defenseless Frankie with the second.

As Frankie’s eyes cleared, he saw Neil on his hands and knees, searching for another club. They’d stirred up a great deal of dust and it was getting harder to see anything clearly.

Frankie pounced on Neil and pinned his face in the dirt. “Listen, damn it! I didn’t hit that kid!” Neil kicked backwards, knocking Frankie over. Again, they rolled, but now they savagely slugged at each other’s faces. Chairs and tables skittered about and the old flooring trembled dangerously, but still the boys clawed at each other.

Suddenly the rotten flooring gave way beneath the fighting boys, and they fell into space with a thundering roar. Tables and heavy timbers crashed after them. Dust billowed out of the hole, and after a few moments all noise ceased.

 

Maura and Lupie gasped as the wild-eyed Irishman burst into Jimco’s room.

“Where is he? Where’s my Jimco?”

“S-h-h, Mr. Brendan,” Maura implored. “Jimco’s been injured and….”

“I know.” He shot a look toward the bed. “They said he was dying!”

“No, no, not now. He’s going to be alright.”

The loud talking awakened Jimco and he blinked at the light in his eyes. At the foot of the bed, Regis was shouting at Maura and that Italian girl, Lupie Poletti. He tried to figure out why she was here.

“But I don’t understand how he could be so hurt….”

“He was beaten, Mr. Brendan.” Maura glanced at Lupie. “Frankie Poletti did it.”

“No,” came a small, strained voice from the bed. “Frankie had nothing to do with it.”

Maura and Lupie stared at each other and then ran for the bed.

“Jimco, what do you mean?” Maura demanded.

“I saw you and Frankie at Emmings, Maura. I was trying to tell Neil.”

“Forget that now. Jimco, did Frankie hurt you?”

“No.”

Lupie gasped.

“Listen, Jimco,” Maura said as she patted his hand. “Lupie and I have to leave for awhile. But we’ll be back.”

“With Neil?”

“That’s who we’re going after. Come on, Lupie,” she said as she grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.” And the girls hurried from the room.

The room was silent. Self-consciously, Regis approached the bed. “I’m glad to hear you’re going to be okay, lad. Uh, are you going to tell the police the truth? That I slapped you around?”

“It depends.”

“Depends? On what?”

“On what you and I agree upon in this room.”

“What are your terms?”

Jimco picked at his sheet. “You’ve put Neil and me through hell. We don’t want any more to do with you. We want you to get out.”

“Are you forgetting I’m your legal guardian?”

“We can prove you’re not responsible. Then we can get foster parents.”

“Got it all worked out, ain’t you?”

“That’s right, Regis.”

“No more ‘Uncle Regis?’ Forgetting awfully quick, ain’t you?”

“You never acted like our uncle, so why should we claim you? All we got in common is the same last name.”

“And the same blood, laddie. Don’t be forgetting that!”

“How can I?” Jimco asked lowly. “You slapped mine out of my mouth this afternoon.”

The lines in Regis’ haggard face pinched together in pain. “I am sorry about that, laddie. You might not believe that, but I am. You just shouldn’t upset me when I’m sick.”

“Sick! You were drunk!”

“Shh, laddie, someone will hear.”

“I don’t care. Drunk! Drunk! You were drunk!” Jimco struggled to rise, but the effort brought back his dizziness, and he fell back against his pillow. “Oh-h-h,” he moaned as his hands tried to stop his revolving head.

Concerned, Regis leaned toward the bed. “Hey, calm down. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Jimco shook off his uncle’s hands. “I don’t want any help from you!”

“But you’re sick….”

Jimco’s glare was pure hatred. “Kind of late to be thinking of someone else, isn’t it? I’m already in the hospital. Isn’t that enough? And all because of you. All you’ve ever thought about was yourself and your drinking. When Neil and I needed someone to lean on, you leaned on us instead. Well, we’re through! Get out!”

“Laddie….”

“I’m ringing for the nurse! I want you out of here!”

Regis held up his hand in surrender. “Alright. Alright, laddie. I’ll go. Just, don’t hurt yourself. I’ll, I’ll go.” He shuffled across the floor and paused at the door. Sadly, he looked back at the bed. “I am sorry.”

“Out!” Jimco screamed.

Regis slipped out of the room and stumbled down the hall. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt the tears trickle down his cheeks. Nurses and other visitors in the hall stared at him as he wove past them.

Jimco was right. He and Neil didn’t need Regis anymore. What Jimco didn’t realize was that he and Neil had never WANTED Regis. No, their world had been complete. For years, they had excluded Regis and now they had managed to get rid of him completely.

When Miss Cook answered Jimco’s call, she found the boy shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. It took ten minutes to calm him, and all he would tell her was that he wanted Neil.


	8. Chapter 8

Frankie moaned and moved his arm out of the rubble. Then he grimaced and shook his head. Finally he sat up, groaned, and tried to see through the swirling dust. He stretched and gingerly touched his many bruises but realized he wasn’t seriously injured.

Frankie pulled himself to his feet, stumbled a few steps, coughed, and looked around at the fallen timbers and other clutter in the dimly lit cellar. He glanced up at the gaping hole he’d fallen through and saw no escape there. Perhaps there was a stairs….

Then he remembered he wasn’t down here alone. Still shaky, he looked around the mess.

“Brendan?”

The two syllables hung heavily in the still air, but there was no answer.

“Brendan, where are you?”

When Frankie got no answer again, he felt uneasy. “By golly,” he said in awe. “Trapped down here and with a stiff.” Suddenly, he crashed through the debris. “Brendan! Brendan! Where the hell are you?”

Frankie heard a slight rustle and stopped, looking around frantically. The rustling came again and Frankie ran to the sound. He knelt and started tossing junk aside. In a few moments he’d uncovered Neil.”

“What’s all the….” Neil started coughing. “—damned hollering about? Boy, it’s dusty down here.” He looked up and saw Frankie grinning. “What’s so damned funny?”

“With all that dirt on your face, you look darker than me. Your eyes shine out of the shadows like a black guy‘s. I won’t lose you down here again as long as you keep your eyes open.”

“Very funny.” Neil tried to move, but was pinned. “Hey, get this mess off me, will you?”

Frankie shoved the junk away until there was nothing left but one big timber. “This thing’s going to be pretty heavy. If I move it, can you pull your leg out?”

“Leg? There’s no timber on my leg.”

“The hell there ain’t! It’s got your left leg pinned down pretty good.”

“I, I can’t even feel it.” Neil’s voice sounded scared.

Frankie shot him a look. “Maybe it just looks like it’s across your leg.”

“But I can’t feel anything!”

“Probably saw its chance and went to sleep,” Frankie snapped.

As Frankie bent to move the timber, he saw some other timbers hanging above Neil’s head. A sudden jar might disturb their delicate balance. Frankie strained and sweated, finally budged the timber, and with an effort sent it crashing aside. But the vibration loosened the balanced timbers, and they fell with a roar.

“Hey!” Frankie yelled as he grabbed Neil’s shoulders and dragged Neil out of danger.

The boys sat coughing and sputtering in the dusty dimness.

“Hey, man, that was close. How’s the leg?”

Neil gingerly touched his left leg. “I don’t think it’s broken.”

“Try to stand.”

Neil struggled to his feet as he put weight on his left leg, he started to fall.

“Hey! Watch it!” Frankie yelled as he grabbed Neil and eased him to the floor.

Neil grabbed his leg and rocked in pain.

“Well, at least you’ve got back the feeling in it. Must be sprained,” Frankie commented as he impassively watched Neil’s suffering. He shucked his coat. “Here, you need this more than I do.” He threw the red jacket over Neil’s shoulders before the shaking boy could protest. “Red looks real nice on you. Ought to wear it more often.”

Neil started to protest, but Frankie grinned and waved him quiet. Frankie put his hands on his hips and glanced around. “Must be some way out of here. You stay put. I’ll check out our domain.” He shoved aside a broken table and waded through the piled debris. Neil could hear him crashing around but could not see him through the dim and dusty light. A few minutes later, Frankie returned.

Neil didn’t have to ask, but he did anyway. “See anything?”

Frankie shook his head.

“What about the stairs?”

“Flooring over it at ceiling level. Can’t budge it. Must be locked with a lot of stuff sitting on top of it. It’d take an elephant to move it, and I’m fresh out of elephants.”

“No windows?”

“No windows.” Frankie glanced toward a dark corner. “I missed this hole.”

“Better watch out. Could be anything over there.”

“Alright, Mother, I’ll be careful,” Frankie mocked. “Hey, there’s some sort of electrical stuff here. Thought it was all disconnected.”

“There used to be an auxiliary unit in here in case something went wrong with city power.”

“No kidding? How come you know so much about it?”

“My dad worked here for fifteen years. He died about the time the plant closed.”

“Hey, this stuff’s real nifty. Maybe we can have lights. All I’d have to do is throw this switch.”

Neil’s brain echoed with his father’s lectures about electricity. Neil raised himself up and grimaced through his pain as he yelled: “Leave it alone, Poletti! You’ll….”

Neil never got to finish his warning. A frying noise, a sputtering light, and Frankie screamed in agony. Neil realized Frankie was being electrocuted. Frankie’s hands were welded to the wires and he couldn’t let loose. If Neil touched Frankie, he’d be trapped, too. Neil could jar Frankie loose with a flying tackle, but Neil needed two good legs for that. Instead, he grabbed a wooden box and threw it toward the sputtering light. The light went out and Frankie fell heavily to the floor.

All was still, except for the swirling dust.

Neil pulled himself up, grimaced against the pain in his leg, and peered into the gloom.

“Poletti!”

No answer.

“Poletti, you okay?”

Neil dragged himself painfully toward the dark corner. He grunted and sweated as he pushed aside debris that he couldn’t crawl over. The thick air choked him, and he spat out ill-tasting phlegm.

Neil’s hands felt the tumbled heap that was Frankie. He shook him. “Come on, Poletti, wake up.”

Frankie didn’t move.

Frankie’s body was a limp sack of rags as Neil laboriously pulled him into the lighter part of the cellar. Frankie’s arms and legs flopped about listlessly.

Neil lay panting and searched for outward signs of life in Poletti. Frankie’s face was pale and sweaty, and he looked about twelve years old. He wasn’t breathing, but Neil’s hand over his chest felt a strong heartbeat.

Neil flopped Frankie over, jumped on his back, and applied artificial respiration. A moment later, Frankie’s breath caught and he started coughing. Neil was amazed that Frankie had responded so quickly. Then he realized the electrical shock hadn’t stopped Frankie’s breathing. Neil had probably knocked the wind out of him with that box.

Frankie’s color and breathing were normal. The volts had only stunned him. He was not dead, only unconscious. Neil recognized shock, though, and threw Frankie’s jacket, plus his own, over him.

Neil slapped Frankie’s face. “Come on, Poletti. Stop playing possum.”

Frankie groaned and blinked, and then consciousness brought back his pain. His handsome, dark face contorted and his body curled in a cocoon, but the pain would not go away. Frankie jackknifed and rolled the other way, but nothing helped.

Neil grabbed his shoulder. “Lay still, Poletti! You’re hurt.”

“My hands!” Frankie sobbed. “My hands!”

Neil dug under the jackets, but Frankie fought him.

“Let me see them, damn it!”

At last, he grabbed Frankie’s wrists and held them up to the light. Frankie writhed and whimpered in pain, and what Neil saw made him feel very ill to his stomach.

Frankie’s hands were solid blisters. The flesh had been burned, and the palms were bleeding slightly.

“Oh, boy,” Neil said reverently.

“Do something,” Frankie begged. “Please, do something.”

Neil felt helpless, but realized he had to get the hands out of the dust and dirt of the basement.

“Have to wrap them,” Neil muttered as he glanced around for something to use as a bandage. He saw something white glimmering from Poletti’s coat pocket and grabbed it. He tore it in strips. Then a name woven in the corner, Maura Shaney’s name, made him wrinkle his brow. What was Poletti doing with Maura’s scarf?

No time to worry about that now. The important thing was to get Poletti’s hands wrapped. Quickly he wrapped the white strips around Frankie’s hands. Frankie tried not to whimper from the pain, but his body shook with the shock of the burns and the shock of being touched. When Neil finished, he let Frankie sink into a quivering heap. Neil huddled beside him and tried to get ahead of his own pain and confusion.

Neil leaned against a box and waited until Frankie was more coherent. Finally, he felt Frankie rustled beside him. “Well, I guess that’s that. You don’t have any hands and I don’t have any legs.”

Frankie started laughing.

“What’s so damned funny?”

“How do you like this for your tomb, Brendan?”

Neil gazed around. “Okay, except for who’s down here with me.”

“Why, you….” Frankie tried to rise, but that started the pain again and he screamed in agony. Huge drops of sweat rolled down his face.

“Will you stay put?” Neil demanded as he shoved Frankie to the floor and held him down. “I got enough problems without you doing something stupid.”

“Listen, there’s only, one way, we’ll ever get, out of, here, and that’s, together.”

Neil wrinkled his brow, but he knew Frankie was right.

“Okay, Poletti, but we have to rest before we try anything. The hands any better?”

“They hurt like hell. Your leg?”

“The same.” Neil paused and glanced at the makeshift bandages that were Maura’s scarf. “Where did you get….”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Neil saw Lupie’s features in Frankie and it nearly broke his heart. If Frankie and Maura had something going together, Neil shouldn’t judge so harshly when he himself loved Poletti’s sister.

“Hey, Brendan.”

“Yeah?”

“You really think I jumped your brother?”

“I don’t know. Jimco said your name.”

“He’s conscious? He’s gonna be okay?”

“He was awake for a moment. Hey, why are you so interested?”

“That kid’s the only one who can clear me, that’s why.”

Neil glanced upward. “This really is quite a tomb. Nothing much else to do but talk, I guess.” He dusted dirt off his white tee shirt. “You know, Maura once said that a lot of the neighborhood problems could be solved if you and I just talked them out.”

“Yeah, she told me the same thing,” Frankie said and did not realized what he’d admitted to Neil, that he Maura well enough to have lengthy discussions with her.

“Down here, with Death beside us, all those petty spats don’t seem so important,” Neil said.

“Don’t have to taunt each other. Maybe that’s because we don’t have an audience. No girls to show off to, no young boys to be heroes for.”

“Or maybe we’re just getting too old for this sort of thing.”

“Yeah. That’s what my old man said. Other things are becoming more important. This gang-stuff seems childish. We should try to stop it. Think the young kids would listen to us?”

“We’re still the leaders, ain’t we?”

“We were an hour ago. But we’ve changed since we walked into this building. I feel ten years older. Maybe the kids won’t trust us.”

“We could try,” Neil said. “Look, there’s been an uneasy truce around here ever since Bax Shaney and those other guys got killed. Nobody wants a repeat of that. Maybe we could make that truce permanent.”

“Yeah, but if we go around spouting peace talk, the other guys may think we’ve gone soft and turn us off.”

“Then, we’ll just have to make peace sound better than fighting, that’s all,” Neil said. “Besides, when they tear out the tenements, most of our reasons for fighting will go with them.”

“Maybe. But we’ll be men and not kids.” Frankie eyed Neil almost cautiously. “Hey, look, I want to know something.”

“Yeah? What?”

“I almost hate to bring it up. You might get mad again.

“Try your luck.”

“Well, awhile ago, upstairs, you wanted to kill me. You almost got the job done. But just now you saved my life. Why?”

“Maybe I didn’t want to be down here alone. Besides, you saved me first. If you hadn’t pulled me away from those timbers, I’d been squashed all over the place by now.”

“And you could have bashed my brains in with that hunk of wood, but you held back. Why?”

Why? Because he was Lupie’s brother and Neil had promised not to hurt her, but Neil couldn’t tell Frankie that.

“Okay, keep your little secret. Hey, could you tuck these jackets in? I feel chilly.”

Neil knitted his brow. It was so hot down here, he was sweating. Frankie must still be in shock.

Neil leaned over Frankie, adjusting the jackets. Something on a chain was dangling in Frankie’s face. A glint of gold caught his eye.

“Hey, what’s that?”

“What’s what?” Neil asked absently as he worked.

“That thing on a chain around your neck.”

Neil remembered and straightened. “Oh, that. It’s nothing.”

“The hell it ain’t! It’s a ring and I recognize it! It’s my mother’s wedding ring, and she gave it to Lupie before she died. Why do you have it?”

“I guess for the same reason Maura gave you her scarf.”

“Maura? No, she was just giving it back to me.”

“I gave Maura that scarf!”

“The first one, sure. This is another scarf.”

“I don’t understand….”

“She used the first scarf for a bandage when I got knifed one day.” Frankie’s mind went back in memory. “We, we didn’t want to like each other, but we couldn’t help it. Each time I saw her, it got worse. But I love her, really and truly I do.”

“Yeah, I know.” Neil cautiously added, “That’s how I feel about Lupie.”

Frankie’s eyes snapped. “I don’t want you messing around my sister. She’s young and pretty, and there’s only one thing you want from her!”

“That’s not true. Now, you might as well hear me out. You can’t go anywhere anyway.” He sighed and his voice was quieter, gentler. “I cherish her more than anyone I know, more than Jimco even. I’d never do anything to hurt her. That’s why it was so hard to come after you.”

“But you did!”

“But Jimco almost died. Don’t you see? I had to do it.”

“And you say you love her….”

“I do. When it came down to actually killing you, I couldn’t do it, and it was all because of how I feel about her.” His tight-lipped grin floated across his face. “You know, we used to tease each other. We thought it was fun hurting each other, but then it wasn’t fun anymore. I just didn’t want her to cry anymore.”

“Then that’s what’s been wrong with her.”

“Look. Lupie and I tried to stop this feeling from growing between us, but it was no use. I couldn’t break up with her. I can’t imagine how it would be.”

“It’s pure hell, I can tell you. I broke up with Maura today because I thought I had to. But now….”

“Listen! If we would work out some sort of peace, then it won’t be such a crime if a Blood and an Irish date!”

“Hey, that’s right! Come on! Let’s get out of here!”

Neil restrained him. “Wait awhile. You need to rest.”

“I ain’t tired!”

Neil saw Frankie’s strained face and knew the Italian boy would be stubborn enough to push himself into injury. He could see a lot of Lupie’s fiery temper in Frankie.

“Well, I’m tired,” Neil said. “I need some rest.” He reached into his pocket. “Want a smoke?”

 

Regis Brendan slumped in an uncomfortable molded plastic chair and tried to concentrate on what to do next. The monotony of the stark white walls unrelieved by ornament and the shabby furniture of the hospital’s fifth floor waiting room bothered him little. In a moment he’d gather the strength to leave, and then he’d get out of those boys’ lives for good. He’d buy a bottle and forget those ungrateful pups. But, oh, how could he forget them? He’d seen them as babes, nursed them through illnesses, and promised their dying father, his own sweet brother, that he’d raise them. Colin shouldn’t have asked for that. He knew, as Regis had always known, that Regis was undependable. No good. Worthless. But Colin had had no choice. Mary Eliza was already gone from cancer, and it was either Regis, or an orphanage, and probably separation, for his young sons. Hopson’s Choice. No choice. The boys went to Regis.

Yes, sir, that’s just what Regis would do. He’d just walk out of their lives and not be concerned about them anymore. And, yet, Jimco had looked so frail and battered. How could Regis go away and not know what happened to the lad?

“Excuse me. Are you Jimco Brendan’s uncle?” the hatchet-faced nurse asked.

Regis started to rise. “Is my Jimco worse? Is he in pain?”

“Relax, Mr. Brendan. Your nephew’s going to be just fine. I’m his nurse, Miss Cook, and I need some information. He was brought in as an emergency case and his admission forms weren’t filled out. Now, his name. Jimco. Is that his real name?”

“No, his daddy, my brother, called him that. It’s really James Colin.” Regis wiped a shaky hand across his watery eyes.

The nurse noticed his pitiful condition. “Would you like to stay with Jimco?”

“No. No, I think now.”

“It’d be alright.”

His face contorted in anguish. “You don’t understand! He doesn’t want me in there. He ordered me away.”

The nurse was taken aback. “But why? Why would he do something like that?”

Regis held up his maimed hand to her. “Because I’m the one who put him in the hospital! I beat him with my own hands!”

The nurse stepped back as though he were repulsive. “You?”

“Yes! And he threatened to tell the police unless I went away. Well, now I don’t care who finds out. I want the police to know! I want them to stop a man who’d beat up on his own boy. If this hand is such a weapon, I belong in jail. So tell them, tell them now!”

“Yes. Right away, Mr. Brendan,” she said as she backed away. “You won’t leave, will you?”

“Where would I go?” he asked in disgust. Indeed, where could he go to escape his own conscience?

 

‘Wait a minute,” Maura gasped, out of breath, and leaned against a lamp pole. “Lupie, I, I just don’t know where else to look.”

“We can’t stop now,” Lupie urged. “Come on.”

Maura shook her head. “It’s getting too late for us to be out by ourselves. We’ll have to wait until morning.”

“We can get help.”

“Not the police.”

“No. The Bloods and the Irish.”

Maura seized the idea and relished it a moment. Then she shook her head. “No. We can’t chance it. If we said Frankie and Neil were fighting, the gangs might start a war.”

“Then what can we do?”

Maura sighed helplessly. “Go home, I guess.” The thought that Ron might be waiting for her chilled Maura. She’d been on her guard and had avoided being alone with him.

“We’re close to where I live. Why don’t you come home with me? Then we can get a fresh start in the morning.”

Maura startled Lupie a little with her enthusiastic acceptance to Lupie's invitation of spending the night at the Poletti house.


	9. Chapter 9

"Well, so much for being rescued," Neil said as he finished his cigarette. If someone had told him last week he'd be calmly smoking a cigarette with Frankie Poletti in the basement of a deserted factory, he would've thought that person was crazy. It just went to show a person what a week could bring. As for being calm, that was the only choice that he and Poletti had in the matter. Getting excited wasn't going to help in this situation. "Batman and Robin aren't zooming up here anytime soon in their Bat Mobile, so I guess it's up to us."

“Yeah," Frankie said with a mirthless grin as he smashed his cigarette. "Listen, there’s only one way out of here that I can see.”

“Straight up?”

“That’s right. Straight up.”

Both boys looked at the gaping hole above their heads.

“But how do we get out?” Neil asked.

“Maybe we could stack boxes and stuff on top of each other.”

“How. You ain’t got no hands and I ain’t got no feet.”

“Yeah, but I got feet and you got hands. Maybe, between us, we can get out of here.”

“It’s going to be hard work.”

“I ain’t scared of hard work,” Frankie declared as he jumped to his feet. “Are you?”

Neil pulled himself up with the support of a packing crate.

“I’ll push the boxes over,” Frankie said. “You stack them.”

Frankie pushed a heavy box with his shoulders and body. Neil maneuvered a heavy table and strained to lift the box onto it. They gazed at their efforts. 

“Would that reach?”

“Not quite,” Neil said.

“Yeah, but adding one more box might make it too rickety.”

“And we sure couldn’t stack tables?”

“Hey, maybe I could give you a boost up!” Frankie decided.

Both boys climbed onto the table, then on top of the box.

“Hey, will this hold us?” Neil asked as the box swayed beneath them.

“Long enough. Come on. Get on my shoulders.”

Neil grimaced in pain once he was in place.

Slowly, Frankie straightened and Neil’s head came closer and closer to the ceiling.

“Can you grab the edge yet?”

Neil reached up and grasped the jagged edge with his strong hands. He raised himself off Frankie’s shoulders and pain shot through his leg again. He stifled a scream and pulled himself upward. Frankie was pushing him from behind.

“Just, one more, boost.”

Neil hurled himself over the edge and lay panting on the upper floor. Suddenly, beneath him, he heard a crash and knew that Frankie had fallen.

Neil looked over the edge of the hole. The box had collapsed and pieces of it were scattered on the table. Neil couldn’t see Frankie in the darkness.

“Frankie? Where are you? Are you hurt?”

There was a stirring noise and Frankie crawled out of some dark recess. He leaned against the table, bent over with coughing, and shook his head to clear it.

“Frankie, are you okay?”

“Busted my head a little. Can’t seem to clear it.”

“You stay put. I’m going to look for something to get you out.” Neil pulled himself to his feet and painfully dragged himself around the room. Frankie couldn’t grab anything with his injured hands. And Neil couldn’t haul him out with brute strength. They might both fall back into the hole. And the last thing Neil would do was call for help. Neither one wanted a breaking and entering charge on their records.

In a closet Neil found exactly what he needed: a rope.

“Frankie,” he called down as he snaked the robe toward Frankie. “I’ve made a loop in this rope. Put it under your arms. Don’t use your hands. I’ll chinch it up for you.”

Frankie stared at the rope dumbly and Neil realized he must have really gotten a good crack on the head.

“Okay. Just hold your arms up. I’ll try to drop the rope over your head. When I say so, you drop your arms. Okay?”

Frankie didn’t answer, but he raised his arms so Neil knew he understood.

Neil tried several times, but the rope slackened and hit Frankie lightly. Then Neil leaned way over so that he was right above Frankie, but the rope was still too slack. Then he twirled the rope like he’d seen in movies and it circled. Neil dropped the loop over Frankie’s arms.

“Now!”

Frankie dropped his arms, but too late. The rope settled around his feet and he stepped out of the loop.

“Can you stand on the table, Frankie?”

Frankie tried to climb, but his coordination was off.

“Okay. Stand still. I’ll try again.”

This time Neil yelled quicker and the rope tightened under Frankie’s arms. 

“Okay. I’m going to haul you up now.”

Neil anchored the rope around the leg of a nearby table and started pulling. Frankie wrapped his arms around the rope and slowly inched upward. But the heavy table near Neil was also moving. With each tug of the rope, it came closer to the edge of the hole. But if Neil stopped to secure it, he might drop Frankie. 

It was a tie. Frankie’s head emerged from the hole just as the table reached the edge. Another pull and Frankie’s shoulders appeared. The table legs were on either side of the boys, teetering dangerously.

“Frankie! Hold your arms up!”

Frankie complied and Neil grabbed him. As much as he was able with his burnt hands, Frankie grabbed back with a death grip. For both boys knew that if Frankie fell back into the hole this time, he would be seriously injured or more than likely killed.

The table’s hulk slid neatly over them and crashed into the basement. The floor shook and Neil thought it would give away, and they would be back in the basement again. Dust belched out of the hole, and there was a lot of crashing around in the basement. Once, Frankie grunted as something hit him in the leg.  
Neil closed his eyes tightly against the swirling dust and buried his head against the back of Frankie’s neck. His whole universe focused on grasping the other boy tightly in his arms and not letting go. He could feel Frankie’s head on the back of his neck and his arms around Neil’s shoulders. At any other time, it would be an embrace, an embrace between friends or even lovers. Now, it was simply a demand for Life.

“Don’t let go! Don’t let go!” Neil yelled, not knowing if Frankie could hear him or not in the terrible racket. Not knowing if it was an order or a plea.

At last the noise quieted, and the dust began to settle.

“You okay?” Neil wanted to know.

Frankie simply nodded. Finally, he managed a weak, “Yeah.”

“I’m going to try pulling you out now. Okay?”

Frankie nodded again. “Yeah,” he repeated, weakly.

As soon as Neil started pulling, though, he discovered two problems. Even though he was young and strong, he was injured and being to tire quicker than if he’d been fresh and uninjured. Also, whenever he paused from tugging on Frankie, Frankie would slide back to where he’d been before Neil had pulled.

But not really back to where he’d been. The boys were in fact losing ground in their quest to get Frankie out of the hole. Frankie’s weight was pulling them both down into the hole. Neil could feel himself sliding. He could keep Frankie from falling, but Neil did not know where he was going to get the strength to haul him out.

Neil strained and pulled backwards. Frankie moved an inch out, but slid an inch back when Neil stopped. Neil tried to get a toehold, but that hurt his leg.

“It’s no good! Let go of me, Neil!”

“No!”

“But you’ll get trapped again! Let go of me and go for help!”

“Another drop might kill you! We’ll either get out of here together, or we’ll go back down in there together!”

“Stubborn Irishman!”

“That’s right.” Then Neil had a sudden idea. “Hey! Climb over the top of me!”

It was slow work because Frankie couldn’t use his hands. Twice Neil thought they were both going to fall back into the hole. Neil helped push Frankie forward. He used his leg as a brace, and pain tore through it.

Frankie’s knee collided solidly with Neil’s nose, and Neil lost contact with reality. He felt his hands dangling loosely into space. He knew he was going fall headfirst into the cellar, and he was powerless to help himself.

Frankie’s weight suddenly left, and Neil knew Frankie was safe. But Neil could feel himself sliding forward.

“Hey!” Frankie yelled.

Pain brought back reality as Frankie grabbed Neil’s leg.

Neil screamed in agony, but Frankie pulled him safely from the edge of the hole.

“Got unbalanced, eh?” Frankie asked, breathing heavily.

Neil couldn’t get his tongue to work or even his muscles.

“Hey, something wrong with you?”

Frankie hauled Neil over on his back.

“Holy cow, what happened to your nose?!” Frankie asked in awe.

Neil touched his face and looked at the blood on his hand. “I, guess you got me with your knee.”

“Here, let me look. Now, I ain’t going to hurt you.” Frankie whistled. “Wow! Are you ever going to have a shiner out of that.”

“The bleeding won’t stop.”

“Here, let me help.” He hauled the dazed Neil into a sitting position and used his forearm to bend his head down. Blood dripped in a puddle between them. “It should stop in a minute.”

“How’s that crack on your head?” Neil mumbled.

“I can think a little better than I could down there. I thought you’d really flipped out when you came at me with that rope.” He grinned and shook Neil slightly. “You’re a regular Lash LaRue!”

Neil looked up. “Who in the hell is that?” he asked gruffly, but a tight-lipped grin was on his face and meant he wasn‘t angry.

“Ain’t you never seen a Western movie?!”

“Gene Autry? Roy Rogers?”

“Well, Lash LaRue was in their generation of cowboy stars, but he used a bullwhip. He was pretty accurate with it, too, just as you were with that rope.”

“I wouldn’t mind being at a theater right now watching a Western movie,” Neil said as he still leaned over and catered to his dripping nose. 

“Or anywhere. Or any movie. Hey, you like messing with cars?”

Frankie’s arm was still slung over Neil’s back, and Frankie’s hand still held Neil’s head down. Neil kind of liked that setup, as though Frankie was taking care of him. And Frankie didn’t seem to mind being a caregiver.

Neil nodded. “Yeah. Mine car’s needing some work right now, though.”

“Hey! Why don’t you bring it over to where I work on mine? The garage owner is real good about letting me use it. Maybe I could help you.”

Neil turned toward Frankie. “Really? That would be great.“

“There’s a lot of guys out there who would like tinkering around on cars.”

“Hey, maybe that’s how we could start getting the Irish and the Bloods together. We all like and understand cars.“

“We could have races!“ Frankie said with excitement.

“Yeah! Maybe we could even get to use that old football field as a tract!“

“And then we could get into mechanic school and make something of ourselves. Then we could have our own garage,“ Frankie dreamed.

“Or get into college. We could be teachers even.“

Frankie grinned. “Teachers? Now, you’ve gone too far.“

Neil looked at Frankie in the dim light. “No, I haven’t,“ he said seriously. “We could do it, Frankie, if we just want it bad enough. And I think we do. Anything. A lot of other guys, too. A lot of Irish and Bloods. We could all have a future. And we could help them by showing them the way.“

Frankie’s hand cupped Neil’s head. “Whatever office you’re running for, I’ll vote for you,“ he said in awe.

Neil grinned. “Time to get off the soapbox, huh?“

Frankie’s hand slid down to Neil’s far shoulder, and Frankie shook Neil slightly. “Nose better?“

Neil touched his nose. “I won’t be breathing through it anytime soon, but I’ll live.”

“Want to try getting out of here, then?”

“I’m ready if you are.”

Frankie stood and leaned over, offering his arm to Neil. “Come on, you Brooklyn cowboy. Home’s a pretty fer piece, and neither one of us could win any races.”

Neil grasped the arm and pulled himself to his feet. “Are you always this clever, or do I just bring it out in you?”

Frankie grinned. “Got you guessing, don’t I?”

Neil grinned back. “I’ll just have to try and figure you out.”

“You can try.”

“We’ll just give it time, Frankie.”

Frankie returned Neil‘s warm look. “I’d like that just fine.”

The boys grinned at each other, joined arms, and hobbled out of the factory.

 

Jimco opened his eyes as Miss Cook entered his room, followed by two policemen and Uncle Regis.

One of the cops, a black man with an angry scar slashed across his right cheek, approached Jimco’s bed. “Son,” he said kindly, “your doctor said we could talk to you a moment if you felt up to it. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes, sir” Jimco replied, and his puzzled eyes slid toward Regis who promptly looked away.

“We understand your accident wasn’t so accidental,” the nice officer continued. “Your uncle claims he hit you. Is that true?”

“Yes, sir. Several times.” He saw the nurse and the second cop, a swarthy Italian, give Regis looks of contempt.

“And that he threatened to beat you with a belt?”

“Yes, sir.”

The black cop smiled compassionately. “Thank you, son. That’s all we need to know. We‘ll let you rest now.” He turned to leave, and the others turned with him.

“Wait! What’s going to happen to my uncle now?”

“We’re going to book him for child-beating and attempted murder.”

“Attempted…. But you can’t do that!”

“Just lie back now, Jimco, and rest,” the nurse urged.

“But they can’t do that! It’s not true! They can‘t take him!”

“S-h-h. The police will take care of your uncle now.”

But the black cop had wandered back to Jimco’s bed. “What do you mean, son? Didn’t he slap you?”

“Sure, he did, but he didn’t beat me up. After he left me, I tripped and hit my head on the radiator. Then, I went looking for help and fell down the stairs. You can’t put him in jail just for slapping me.”

“Yes, we could, Jimco.“

“Maybe I deserved it.“

“Nobody deserves abuse, son.“

“It wasn’t abuse, sir. He was trying to correct me the only way he knew how. That‘s how he was raised, too, sir.“

“That’s no excuse, son. We’re trying to stop that type of correction by parents and guardians. Now the Law sees it as abuse, not correction.”

“But you can’t take us away from him! He’s the only family my brother and I have! I’d be put in an orphanage! I’d never see my brother again! You can’t break up a family like that!”

“Take it easy, son.“ The officer patted Jimco’s shoulder. “No, I guess we can’t break up a family. That isn‘t our intention.” His eyes flashed at Regis, and there was a hardness to his voice that Jimco hadn’t heard before. “Okay, Brendan, you’re free to go. Just don’t use the kid for a punching bag anymore.”

The two policemen, Miss Cook, and Regis headed for the door.

“I want to talk to him,” Jimco said.

Regis kept walking, but the black cop grabbed his arm and motioned him toward the bed. “You better hear what he has to say, man. You owe him a lot.” He looked back at Jimco. “If he gives you any trouble, son, you just let me know. I’m Officer Whitney, Clarence J.” He sneered at Regis. “I’ll be glad to handle him for you.”

“Thanks, officer. I’ll remember.”

The two cops and the nurse left. The room grew quiet as Regis stood dejected by the door, his shoulders slumped, his head down.

“You should have kept your peace, boy. You’d be rid of me by now.” He wandered aimlessly toward the window. “But thanks for speaking up, for saving me.” He studied the floor. “But what I want to know is why. Why did you speak up?”

“Because you weren’t guilty.”

“But I COULD have done it, don’t you see? I was so drunk, I couldn’t remember exactly what I’d done to you.”

“But I knew. And, as bad as I wanted to hurt you for all you’ve done to us, I just couldn’t lie.”

“That’d made you as bad as me, wouldn’t it? Well, I aim to return the favor. I’ll never hit you again. I won’t have the chance ‘cause I won’t be around.” He headed for the door.

“Where will you go, Uncle Regis?”

Regis paused and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ll find a place.”

“A flop house? An open-door mission?”

Regis turned, anger and anguish in his eyes. “And what do you care? You and Neil don’t give one snap for me. You said so. You said you could get along without me.”

“It’s just your drinking and bad temper we don’t need. I don’t think we could do without you entirely.”

Regis stared at the boy. “What?”

“You’re all the family we got. We need you.”

“But, awhile ago you said…. What changed your mind?”

“I guess a few minutes ago, when I thought you were going to jail, I realized I didn’t really want that to happen. I didn’t know you’d turn yourself in. I didn’t know you had the guts.” Jimco pursed his lips. “Uncle Regis, you’re always telling us how people clamored after you when you were young and good at shooting pool. Then, when your hand got hurt and those people forgot you, you turned to drinking. Don’t you think that maybe you could believe that Neil and I need you, sober and trustworthy, like those other people did? Then, maybe you wouldn’t need to drink.”

“I, I don’t know if I’d be strong enough.”

“We could help you. Please, Uncle Regis, try. All we really want is someone we can depend on. You could be that person, Uncle Regis.” Jimco swallowed hard. “We never said we didn’t love you.”

Dumb-founded, Regis approached the bed. “But you never said….”

“Aw, guys don’t go around saying mushy things like that to each other. Makes them sound like a bunch of silly girls.” He studied his bed sheet. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

The room got quiet and Regis’ low voice barely disturbed it. “Jimco, lad, I make you this promise. I’m going to try, from now on, to be the kind of uncle you boys deserve.”

‘That’s all we want, Uncle Regis.”

“I’ll need your help. I might even weaken and slip up sometimes.”

“I know. But, maybe you’ll think of me in the hospital, and you’ll stop.”

Regis closed his eyes against the painful memory. “Aye,” he said at last. “And I might even win your respect, and my own.”

Jimco knew that there’d be times in the future when Regis would try to drown his self-pity in a bottle, but maybe those times wouldn’t be so frequent now that he knew his nephews were behind him.

“Sit down, Uncle Regis. We can wait for Neil together. We have a lot to talk over.”

 

Arm-in-arm, Frankie and Neil limped down the early morning streets. The sun had just come up and the only traffic was an occasional milk truck. The drivers neglected the boys’ signals to stop.

“Damned Commie!” Frankie muttered as a Rainbow Dairy truck passed them.

“You can’t blame him. He thinks we’re hoods.”

“Which we are!” Frankie smirked. “But hoods from two different gangs.”

“Yeah,” Neil agreed as he glanced at the tenement buildings. Just ahead was the house where Frankie, and Lupie, lived. Ever since the boys had entered the Italian district, Neil had remembered the differences, deep-seated and long standing, which were between him and Frankie. Back in the factory, they’d been in neutral territory. Now, here in familiar surroundings, they were Irish and Blood again. Neil wondered if Frankie felt the change, too.

They stopped in front of Frankie’s tenement house. He glanced at his father’s store on the ground floor, then up at the top floor’s windows where his family lay sleeping.

“Well,” he said almost reluctantly and withdrew his arm from Neil’s waist.

Neil grabbed a mailbox to lean on. His leg hurt worse without Frankie’s support.

“Can you make it alright?” Frankie asked as he watched Neil struggling to stay balanced.

“Yeah. It’ll take me awhile, but I’ll do it.”

“Look, maybe I could walk you on home.”

“No. Your hands need medical attention. Besides, I don’t want Lupie to worry about you anymore.”

Lupie’s name quieted both boys for a moment.

“Look. About Lupie…. Do you think I might be able to, well, see her sometime? I’d like to call for her at her front door, not sneak kisses on the roof.”

“I don’t know,” Frankie answered brusquely. Then he grinned at Neil’s fallen face. “You’ll have to ask her. Her brother will be in favor of it, though.”

Neil grinned, relieved.

“And we’ll get together, say tomorrow, and discuss this truce further. Me, I‘m planning on sleeping a long time.”

“Me, too,” Neil agreed.

“A fresh start.” Frankie gave him a level look. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Neil agreed.

Frankie walked a few paces, then turned. “I still don’t think it’ll work.”

“We can try, Frankie.”

Frankie nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Neil?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope it works. I really do.”

“So do I.”

They looked at each other in perfect understanding.

Frankie made a slight motion with a hand. “See you tomorrow then.” He headed for his front steps.

Neil gingerly put his right foot forward and pulled the left one behind it. He repeated the process and found that he was panting. It would be slow work, but soon he’d be home so he could find out how Jimco was.

Frankie fumbled with the doorknob, and then walked back to Neil. Neil stopped and waited for him to catch up.

“Yeah?” Neil asked. “Problem?”

“You could say. I forgot about these,” Frankie said as he held up his bandaged hands. “I guess I still need your help. And by the way you’re speeding down the sidewalk, you still need mine.” He grinned pleasantly. “I got an idea. How about coming home with me and letting Lupie fix breakfast for us? She makes some great scrambled eggs. And if what you tell me is true, she won’t mind your company.”

The prospect of seeing Lupie cheered Neil. “Sounds great to me.”

The boys joined arms and limped toward the house.

Just then a dark blue Buick rolled around the corner and stopped behind the boys. Two gorilla-like men, their hats pulled down over their eyes, slid out of the car.

“Hey, Poletti!”

The boys turned, and Frankie realized too late that the tough-looking men were from the syndicate.

“Your old man can’t hear so good, can he? Well, maybe this will open his ears.”

And before the startled teenagers could move, the thugs had machine-gunned them down.

Maybe, if Frankie would’ve tried to run for it, he just might have gotten away. But Neil was crippled and couldn’t run. And Frankie would never have left him. Never.

The thugs threw a wreath of artificial flowers on the two bloody bodies sprawled together over the sidewalk. The ribbon in gaudy letters read ‘Beloved Son.’

Later, as Maura viewed the bodies with their arms twined around each other, she found a bag of jellybeans lying nearby. And with her jaw set in determination, she walked to the nearest policeman and told him to look for Ron Blecher.

Frankie had been right, but not in the way he thought. Even though he and Neil had worked out a truce, nobody would ever follow it.

Hell, they’d never even know about it now.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing dealing with West Side Story.


End file.
